LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


PAST    MERIDIAN. 


BY 

MRS.   L.   H.   SIGOURNEY. 


Here,  at  Earth's  banquet,  he's  the  wisest  guest 
Who  gladly  takes  whate'er  his  God  doth  send, 
Keeping  each  instrument  of  joy  in  tune, 
That  helps  to  fit  him  for  the  choir  of  Heaven. 


€bition. 

REVISED   AND   ENLARGED   £T   THE  AUTHOR. 


PRINTED  BY  JOHN  F.  TROW,   NEW  YORK. 
PUBLISHED    BY    BROWN   AND   GROSS, 

HARTFORD,  CONN. 


LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


ENTERED,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S64,  by 

F.  A.  BROWN, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Connecticut. 


JOHN   F.   TROW, 
PRINTER,  STEREOTYPER,  AWD  ELECTROTYPER, 

46,  48,  &  50  Greene  St.,  New  York. 


PREFACE. 


IT  is  not  considered  polite  to  ask  people  their  age, 
after  the  bloom  of  youth  has  departed.  I  would  not 
willingly  violate  the  rules  of  decorum,  or  tempt  any 
one  to  hide  the  foot-prints  of  Time,  as  the  Indian 
warrior  covers  his  track  with  leaves.  Making  no 
invidious  inquiry,  let  me  simply  whisper  in  the  ear 
of  those  who  have  achieved  more  than  half  life's 
journey,  that  this  book  is  for  them.  It  is  their  own 
exclusive  property.  It  is  devoted  heart  and  hand  to 
their  interest.  Whoever  is  found  reading  it  may 
be  suspected  to  have  attained  the  same  ripe  age. 

It  is,  therefore,  a  kind  of  confidential  affair 
between  me  and  my  compeers — we,  whose  faces 
are  towards  the  setting  sun.  To  all  such,  I  offer 
the  right  hand  of  fellowship.  We  are  in  the  same 


4  PEEFACE. 

category — a  joint-stock  concern  that  admits  no  young 
partners.  Every  camp  has  its  watch-word.  Every 
state  its  history.  Every  profession  its  policy.  Have 
not  we  ours  ?  Aye,  and  our  rights  too  ?  And  shall 
we  not  stand  for  them?  Come,  let  us  see. 

L.  H.  S. 

HARTFORD,  CONN. 


CONTENTS. 


PREFACE,        .            .            .            .  .            .3 

I.   THE  A.  M.'s  AND  THE  P.  M.'s,  7 

II.    OLD,  .            .....            .  .            .15 

III.  REPORTERS,           .            .            .            .  .25 

IV.  THE  CUSTODY  OF  KNOWLEDGE,         .  .            .32 
Y.   THE  BEAUTY  OF  AGE,     .            .            .  '  .          43 

VI.   AIR,    .            .            .            *        '.-',.  .55 

VII.  DOMESTIC  FESTIVALS,      .            .            .  .          71 

VIII.   BIRTHDAYS,    .            .            .            .  .            .91 

IX.   PATRIOTIC  RECOLLECTIONS,          .            .  .104 

X.   ACCOMPLISHMENTS,    .            .            .  .            .120 

XI.   PRIVILEGES  OF  AGE,        ....         131 

XII.   LONGEVITY  AND  INTELLECTUAL  LABOR,  .            .  146 

XIII.  AGED  DIVINES,    .            .            •   N        •  •        173 

XIV.  REMARKABLE  WOMEN,          ..            .  .            .  237 
XV.   WESTERING  SUNBEAMS,    .            .            .  .275 

XVI.   ABOUT  MONEY,          .            .            .  .            .299 

XVII.   THE  AMENITIES,  .            .            .            .  .315 

XVIII.   THE  PLEASURES  OF  WINTER,            .  .            .325 

XIX.   A  NEW  EXISTENCE,         ....        330 


OHAPTEE  I. 


Cfte  &.  H.'s  aid  %  ft 


"  AH  !  what  concerns  it  him  whose  way 

Lies  upward  to  the  immortal  dead, 
That  a  few  hairs  are  turning  gray  ? 

Or  one  more  year  of  life  hath  fled  ? 
Swift  years !  still  teach  us  how  to  bear, 

To  feel,  to  act,  with  strength  and  skill, 
To  reason  wisely,  nobly  dare, 

Then  speed  your  courses  as  ye  will : 
When  life's  meridian  toils  are  done, 

How  calm,  how  rich  the  twilight  glow, 
The  morning  twilight  of  a  sun 

That  shines  not  here  on  things  below." 

PROFESSOR  NORTON. 

THE  equinoctial  of  human  life,  though  vague 
ly  denned,  is  not  an  imaginary  line.  Arithme 
tically  speaking,  thirty-five,  as  predicated  on  the 
allotted  span  of  seventy  years,  is  the  true 
zenith.  Yet  life's  latitude  can  not  be  computed 


8  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

with  such  exactness.  Of  Cuvier,  it  was  said 
at  sixty,  that  he  was  but  in  the  climax  of  his 
scientific  powers ;  and  Klopstock,  at  eighty, 
bore  the  epithet  of  "  the  youth  forever." 

These  instances  are,  indeed,  but  exceptions, 
and  it  must  be,  doubtless,  admitted  that  the 
meridian  of  life  is  fully  passed  at  fifty.  It 
would  be  an  exceedingly  liberal  construction 
to  extend  to  sixty,  the  dividing  line  between 
the  ante  and  the  post-meridian  people.  Bound 
aries  may  diverge,  here  and  there,  but  the  char 
acteristics  and  possessions  of  those  on  each 
side  of  this  debatable  ground  are  sufficiently 
distinct. 

With  the  A.  M.'s,  are  the  beauty  and  the 
vigor,  and  the  ambition  of  this  present  world. 
Of  these  distinctions  they  are  aware  and  tena 
cious. 

Yet,  the  P.  M.'s  are  not  utterly  cyphers. 
This,  I  trust,  in  due  time  to  show.  If  with 
them,  there  is  a  less  inflated  hope,  there  should 
be  a  more  rational  happiness ;  for  they  have 
winnowed  the  chaff  from  the  wheat,  and  tested 
both  what  is  worth  pursuing,  and  worth  pos 
sessing. 

Is  there  any  antagonism  between  these  par 
ties  ?  Is  one  disposed  to  monopolize,  and  the 


THE      A.M.S      AND      THE      P.    M.S.  9 

other  to  consider  itself  depreciated  ?  Does  one 
complain  that 

"  Superfluous  lags  the  veteran  on  the  stage  ? " 

and  the  other  morosely  withdraw  from  the 
battle  of  life,  and  its  reciprocities  ?  We  will 
not  admit  any  just  ground  for  such  estrange 
ment.  Rather  are  they  differing  tenses  of  the 
same  verb,  the  verb  "  to  love"  whose  root  is  in 
the  blessed  principle  that  binds  the  universe 
together.  Children  are  they  of  the  morning 
and  of  the  evening,  living  on  the  bounty  of 
one  common  Father,  and  lighted  by  the  beams 
of  the  same  rising  and  setting  sun,  to  His  home 
in  Heaven. 

The  duties  that  devolve  on  the  P.  M.'s  are 
not  often  as  clearly  evident,  or  as  strongly 
enforced  as  those  which  appertain  to  their  pre 
decessors.  One  class  comprises  the  planting, 
the  other  the  garnering  process.  In  agricul 
ture,  the  necessity  of  preparing  the  soil,  and 
sowing  right  seed,  is  apparent  and  imperative. 
The  requisitions  to  remove  weeds,  and  destroy 
noxious  insects,  are  equally  obvious.  But 
when  the  objects  of  culture  approach  their 
final  maturity,  vigilance  declines.  Still,  the  care 
ful  gardener  will  give  the  perfecting  peach  the 
l* 


10  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

shelter  of  a  wall,  or  the  clustering  grape  a  prop, 
that  it  may  better  meet  the  sunbeam.  The 
laborer  knows  that  the  golden  sheaf  needs  the 
vertic  sun,  and  the  boy  seeks  not  his  nuts  in  the 
forest,  till  the  frost  opens  their  sheath. 

So,  in  this  our  mortal  life,  though  the  toils 
that  fit  for  action,  are  more  obvious  and  press 
ing,  yet  the  responsibilities  of  its  period  of  re 
pose,  deserve  frequent  and  distinct  contempla 
tion.  For  that  richest  fruit  of  the  Creator,  the 
soul  of  man,  that  which  survives,  when  all 
other  works  of  creation  perish,  goes  on  ripen 
ing  and  ripening  as  long  as  it  hangs  in  this 
garden  of  time,  and  needs  both  earthly  and 
divine  aid  to  bring  it  happily  to  the  eternal 
harvest. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  ethics  of  age  have 
been  less  elaborately  stated  than  those  of  youth 
or  maturity.  Still,  the  most  perfect  philosophy, 
the  most  sublime  precepts,  fail,  without  the  ex 
ample  of  a  good  life.  The  morality  of  Socrates 
and  Seneca,  was  beautiful,  but  their  times  fur 
nished  no  illustrations.  The  code  of  Confucius 
was  fine,  but  lacked  vitality.  How  much  more 
impressive  is  the  theory  of  Addison,  he  who 
was  enabled  to  say  at  last,  "  Come  see  in  what 
peace  a  Christian  can  die." 


THE      A.M.S      AND      THE     P.    M.S.        11 

"I  know  of  but  one  way,  he  adds,  of  fortifying  the  mind 
against  gloomy  presages  and  terrors,  and  that  is,  by  securing  the 
friendship  of  that  Being  who  disposes  of  all  events,  and  governs 
futurity.  He  sees  at  one  view,  the  whole  thread  of  my  exis 
tence,  not  only  that  part  of  it  which  I  have  already  passed 
through,  but  that  which  runs  forward  into  the  depths  of  eter 
nity.  When  I  lie  down  to  sleep,  I  recommend  myself  to  His 
care  ;  when  I  awake  I  give  myself  up  to  His  direction.  Amidst 
all  the  evils  that  threaten  me,  I  will  look  up  to  Him  for  help, 
and  question  not  but  He  will  avert  them,  or  turn  them  to  my 
advantage.  Though  I  know  neither  the  time,  nor  the  manner 
of  the  death  that  I  am  to  die,  I  am  not  at  all  solicitous  about 
it,  because  I  am  sure  that  he  knows  them  both,  and  that  He  will 
not  fail  to  support  and  comfort  me  under  them." 

A  serenity  thus  founded  and  sustained,  pro 
motes  the  perfecting  of  the  soul's  best  fruits. 
Earthly  perturbations  check  their  full  develop 
ment,  and  may  cause  them  to  fall  before  their 
time.  To  pass  through  God's  world  unrecon 
ciled,  or  in  hostility  to  Him,  is  fearful  arrogance. 
To  estrange  from  His  service  the  powers  that 
He  has  given,  or  the  affections  that  He  claims, 
is  treason  heightened  by  ingratitude. 

If  this  has  been  the  case  with  any  of  us,  let 
us  lay  aside  the  weapons  of  our  warfare.  When 
we  first  entered  this  pilgrimage,  many  paths 
allured  us,  each  bright  with  flowers,  and  birds 
-of :"  hope.  Some  we  followed,  till  the  flowers 
faded  and  the  song  ceased.  Others  we  entered, 
and  hastily  retraced,  finding  only  thorns  and 


12  PAST     MEKIDIAN. 

pitfalls.  Now,  approaching  the  close  of  our 
probation,  a  single  road  strongly  solicits  us, 
one  prominent  object  concentrates  our  desires, 
a  happy  entrance  into  the  "  house  not  made 
with  hands  ! " 

All  along  the  way  there  is  happiness  for 
those  whose  hearts  are  in  unison  with  the  Di 
vine  will.  With  a  prayer  of  penitence  for  the 
erring  past,  and  a  hymn  of  faith  for  the  joyous 
future,  they  pass  onward,  their  Christian  graces 
maturing  day  by  day,  under  the  "  clear  shining 
of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness."  Thus  may  it 
be  with  us.  until  the  last,  bright  drop  of  this 
brief  existence  shall  be  exhaled. 

Those  who  have  completed  half  a  century, 
if  not  literally  numbered  among  the  aged,  have 
yet  reached  a  period  of  great  gravity  and  im 
portance.  They  should  have  gained  an  ascent 
wrhich  discloses  much  of  earth's  vanity.  They 
have  passed  life's  meridian,  and  journey  hence 
forth  toward  the  gates  of  the  west.  The  loved 
ones  who  like  tutelary  spirits  presided  over  their 
earliest  years,  and  rejoiced  in  their  blossoming 
promise,  have  long  since  ceased  those  ministra 
tions,  or  departed  to  their  reward.  For  the  re 
sponsibilities  that  remain,  they  must  gird  them 
selves,  and  help  to  gird  others.  To  a  future 


THE      A.    M.'S      AND      THE     P.    M .'  S .        13 

generation  they  should  pay  the  debt  which  they 
have  incurred  from  the  past. 

Time  has  also  to  them,  a  heightened  and  an 
increasing  value.  For  should  they  reach  three 
score  and  ten,  which  it  is  computed  that  only 
five  in  one  hundred  of  our  race  attain,  or  even 
far  exceed  the  prescribed  date  of  man,  every 
year  is  said  to  gather  fleetness  as  it  approaches 
its  goal.  The  rapidity  of  the  tide  of  time  has 
been  well  depicted  by  one  of  our  eloquent 
lecturers,  the  Eev.  Henry  Giles. 

"  There  is  no  Gibeon  in  life,  upon  which  we  can  rest  for  a 
moment,  the  morning  or  the  noontide  ;  there  is  no  Ajalon  in  our 
age,  whereon  we  can  force  the  moonlight  to  repose  beyond  its 
appointed  hour.  We  can  not  rekindle  the  morning  beams  of 
childhood  ;  we  can  not  recall  the  noontide  glory  of  youth  ;  we 
can  not  bring  back  the  perfect  day  of  maturity  ;  we  can  not  fix 
the  evening  rays  of  age,  in  the  shadowy  horizon ;  but  we  can 
cherish  that  goodness  which  is  the  sweetness  of  childhood,  the 
joy  of  youth,  the  strength  of  maturity,  the  honor  of  old  age, 
and  the  bliss  of  saints." 

The  aids  of  philosophy  to  promote  the  com 
fort  and  dignity  of  advancing  age  have  been 
often  given,  in  the  form  of  beautiful  rules,  or 
striking  aphorisms.  Yet  these  will  be  found 
frail,  or  rootless,  unless  the  soul  is  at  peace  with 
itself  and  with  its  Maker.  "  I  can  scarcely 
think  that  man  in  his  right  mind "  said  the 


14  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

eloquent    Cicero,    "  who    is   destitute   of    reli 
gion." 

It  may  be,  that  God's  gift  of  life  in  its  more 
protracted  periods,  is  by  certain  classes  of  ob 
servers,  undervalued,  or  vilified.  Should  it  be 
our  lot  to  reach  any  of  those  periods,  may  we 
do  justice  to  the  Giver's  goodness.  May  we  so 
cooperate  with  all  heavenly  influences,  so  con 
form  our  conduct  to  the  precepts  of  the  Gospel, 
so  trust  in  our  Redeemer,  that 

"  What  is  dark 

In  us,  He  may  illumine  ;  what  is  weak, 
Raise  and  support." 

Thus,  striving  to  prove  that  age,  though 
deemed  unlovely,  can  be  happy  and  holy,  may 
we  find  the  last  note  of  its  hymn  sweetly  har 
monizing  with  the  angel's  welcome,  "  Come  up 
hither  I " 


CHAPTER  II. 


©a 

"My  Mariners! 

Souls  that  have  toiled  and  wrought  and  felt  with  me, 
That  ever  with  a  simple  welcome  took 
The  thunder  or  the  sunshine,  and  opposed 
Free  hearts,  free  foreheads,  you  and  I  are  old. 
Yet  age  hath  still  his  honor  and  his  joy." 

TENNYSON. 

OLD  !  Can  you  remember  how  you  felt, 
when  that  adjective  was  first  coupled  with 
your  name  ?  Perhaps  your  milliner  in  fitting  a 
new  hat,  chanced  to  remark,  that  was  a  "  be 
coming  fashion  for  an  old  lady  ;  "  or  some  coach 
man,  by  way  of  recommending  his  carriage, 
might  have  added,  it  was  remarkably  easy  for 
an  "  old  gentleman  to  get  in  and  out  of." 

Old,  indeed  !     How  officious  and  rude  these 


16  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

common  people  are  !  Whereupon,  you  have 
consulted  your  mirror,  and  been  still  more 
indignant  at  their  stupidity. 

But  you  may  have  been  gently  helped  along 
to  this  conclusion,  by  the  circumstance  of  pater 
nity.  Old  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  set  in  apposition  with 
young  Mr.  and  Mrs.,  lose  much  of  their  dis 
cordance  and  become  familiar  household  words. 
The  satisfaction  of  hearing  your  eldest  darling 
thus  distinguished,  has  softened  the  bitterness 
of  your  own  unflattering  cognomen.  Possibly, 
you  have  been  moved  magnanimously  to  ex 
claim  with  the  sententious  Ossian,  u  Let  the 
name  of  Morni  be  forgotten  among  the  people, 
if  they  will  only  say,  behold  the  father  of 
Gaul." 

Still,  it  is  hard  to  have  a  quietus  suddenly 
put  upon  long-cherished  hopes  and  vanities. 
"  The  baby  shall  not  be  named  after  me,"  said 
a  young  parent  of  his  first-born,  "  for  it  will  be 
old  John  and  young  John,  while  I  am  yet  in  my 
prime."  "  I  wish  my  son  had  not  taken  it  into 
his  head  to  marry  so  early,"  said  a  lady  in  a 
remarkably  fine  state  of  preservation ;  "  for 
now,  I  suppose,  it  must  be  old  Madam,  and 
young  Madam."  The  unmarried,  whose  recol 
lections  can  bisect  a  century,  are  prone  to  be 


OLD.  17 

annoyed  at  the  disposition  to  pry  into  dates, 
and  are  sure  that  no  well-bred  person  would  be 
guilty  of  such  absurd  curiosity. 

Yet,  to  veil  the  traces  of  time,  and  put  fam 
ily  records  out  of  the  way,  are  of  little  avail. 
There  will  be  here  and  there,  a  memory  stub 
bornly  tenacious  of  chronological  matters,  and 
whoever  labors  to  conceal  his  proper  date,  will 
usually  find  some  Argus  ready  to  watch  over 
and  reveal  it. 

But,  after  all !  what  is  there  so  frightful  in 
this  little  Saxon  word  old?  This  collocation 
of  three  innocent  letters,  why  do  they  thrill  the 
hearts  of  so  many  fair  women  and  brave  men, 
with  terror  and  aversion  ? 

Is  everything  that  is  old  deteriorated  ?  What 
do  you  think  of  old  wine  ?  We  can  not,  indeed, 
say  quite  as  much  about  that,  in  these  temper 
ance  times,  as  Anacreon  did.  But  I've  always 
understood,  when  physicians  recommended  its 
tonic  or  restorative  powers  in  medicine,  it  was 
the  old,  and  not  the  new.  Ask  the  epicure  to 
partake  of  new  cheese.  Saith  he  not,  "  the  old 
is  better."  Does  any  one  question  the  correct 
ness  of  his  taste  ?  What  do  you  say  of  an  old 
friend,  that  best  cordial  of  life  ?  Blessings  on 
his  smile,  and  on  the  hearty  grasp  of  his  hand. 


18  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

What  if  he  does  come,  leaning  on  his  staff? 
There  is  no  winter  in  his  heart.  He  was 
brought  up  in  times  when  friendship  was  more 
than  a  name. 

"  The  vine  produces  more  grapes  when  it  is 
young,"  says  Bacon,  "  but  better  grapes  for 
wine,  when  it  is  old,  because  its  juices  are  more 
perfectly  concocted."  Very  true,  no  doubt.  A 
wise  man  was  my  Lord  Bacon.  We  see  every 
thing  is  not  worse  for  being  old. 

Is  it  worth  while  to  be  so  much  shocked  at 
the  circumstance  of  becoming  old  ?  Is  it  a 
mark  of  excommunication  from  our  race  ?  On 
the  contrary,  we  have  a  chance  of  finding  some 
very  good  company. 

So  then,  we  to  whom  thrice  twenty  years, 
each  with  its  four  full  seasons,  fairly  counted 
out,  pressed  together,  and  running  over,  have 
been  given,  will  no  longer  resist  the  epithet, 
old.  "  To  this  complexion  we  have  come  at 
last."  We  will  not  be  ashamed  of  it.  It  is 
better  to  be  old,  than  to  be  wicked. 

Let  us  draw  nearer  together.  I  hold  that 
we  are  not  a  despisable  body.  Similarity  of 
position  gives  community  of  interest.  Have 
we  not  something  to  say,  that  others  need  not 
hear  ?  We'll  say  it  in  this  book. 


OLD.  19 

And  first,  I  would  whisper  a  proposition, 
that  we  depend  not  too  much  on  sympathy 
from  the  young.  Those  who  earnestly  demand 
that  commodity,  having  outlived  their  early 
associates,  will  stand  a  chance  of  being  num 
bered  among  the  repiners  of  old,  "  sitting  in  the 
market-place,  and  calling  unto  their  fellows,  we 
have  piped  unto  you,  and  ye  have  not  danced, 
we  have  mourned  unto  you,  and  ye  have  not 
lamented." 

Secondly,  let  us  search  after  bright  things, 
in  the  world,  and  among  its  people.  "  Ever}?- 
year  of  my  Kfe,"  says  Cecil,  "  I  grow  more  con 
vinced  that  it  is  wisest  and  best  to  fix  our 
attention  on  the  beautiful  and  the  good,  and 
dwell  as  little  as  possible  on  the  dart  and 
the  base." 

Yet  it  is  said  that  the  Past  Meridians  are 
prone  to  be  querulous,  dissatisfied,  and  dealers 
in  complaints,  I  think  I  have  heard  a  few  of 
these.  Supposing  we  should  examine  them. 

"  The  world  is  not  what  it  used  to  be"  No. 
It  is  in  a  state  of  palpable  progress.  It  has 
thrown  off  its  seven-mile  boots,  and  travels  by 
steam.  Those  who  plod  after  it  in  their  an 
tique,  lumbering  stage  coaches  fail  to  keep  in 
sight  the  smoke  of  its  engine.  We  can  not 


20  PAST     MEEIDIAN. 

overtake  it,  and  it  will  not  stay  for  us.  The 
world  is  in  a  different  phase  of  action.  It 
pleads  guilty  to  this  accusation.  What  next  ? 

"  We  do  not  receive  the  respect  that  was  once 
paid  to  age?  Perhaps  we  expect  too  much. 
Is  not  something  due  from  us  \  We  think  the 
young  neglect  us.  Do  we  not  owe  something 
to  the  young  ourselves  ?  Those  who  linger  at 
a  banquet  after  others  are  gone,  should  take 
especial  pains  to  make  themselves  agreeable. 
If  we  find  less  courtesy  than  we  wish,  let  us 
show  more.  It  becomes  us  to  be  very  meek 
and  patient,  to  make  amends  for  our  long  enter 
tainment  at  life's  board.  "  I  had  a  beautiful 
dream,"  said  a  bright  boy.  "  I  thought  we 
children  were  all  in  heaven,  and  so  happy.  By 
and  by,  grandfather  came  in  frowning,  and  say 
ing,  as  he  always  does,  '  Can't  these  children 
stop  their  noise  ? '  So  we  all  ran  away." 

"  People  are  tired  of  us?  It  may  be  so. 
The  guest  who  tarries  late,  is  sometimes  counted 
intrusive  or  burdensome.  Toward  those  who 
have  long  retained  coveted  honors  or  emolu 
ments,  there  is  a  natural  impatience  for  rever 
sion.  "  That  old  lawyer  has  stood  first  at  the 
bar,  long  enough,"  says  the  younger  aspirant. 
"  That  old  physician  gets  all  the  practice ;  we 


OLD.  21 

young  doctors  may  starve."  "  That  old  author 
has  been  the  favorite  of  the  public  an  unreason 
able  time ;  the  rest  of  us  want  a  fair  chance." 
The  monopoly  of  wealth  is  equally  hazardous, 
though  expectant  heirs  may  be  less  frank  in 
their  expressions  of  impatience. 

The  resignation  at  the  departure  of  the  aged 
and  distinguished,  can  be  readily  understood. 
Allusions  to  the  majority  of  the  early  sum 
moned,  may  be  sometimes  significant.  "  Those 
whom  the  gods  love,  die  young,"  said  a  pagan. 
In  an  age  when  all  slow  movements  are  un 
popular,  speed  in  departure  may  possibly  be 
counted  among  the  graces ;  and  in  a  republic, 
a  desire  for  the  equalization  of  honors,  is  nei 
ther  peculiar  nor  reprehensible, 

"  We  are  not  in  good  liealih?  Very  likely. 
It  would  be  remarkable  if  we  were.  We  could 
not  expect  to  Avear  the  world's  harness  so  many 
years,  up  hill,  and  down  hill,  without  some 
chafing.  It  would  be  a  wonder  if  none  of  our 
senses  were  enfeebled.  They  have  served  us  a 
long  time.  Let  us  be  thankful  for  the  period 
in  which  we  have  seen  clearly,  heard  quickly, 
and  moved  nimbly.  Many  mysterious  springs, 
and  intricate  chords,  and  delicate  humors,  have 
been  kept  in  order  to  this  end.  We  will  praise 


22  PAST      MEEIDIAN. 

the  Architect  of  such  wonderful  mechanism, 
that  it  has  so  well  served  us,  and  that  He  has 
seen  fit  so  long  to  keep  the  "  pitcher  from  being 
broken  at  the  fountain,  or  the  wheel  at  the 
cistern." 

"  Our  early  friends  have  departed?  Ah ! 
there  is  sadness  in  that  sound.  But  on  this 
tenure  we  commenced  our  earthly  journey. 
They  were  to  go  from  us,  or  we  from  them. 
We  linger  in  the  deserted  hall,  and  ought  not 
to  marvel  that  its  flowers  droop,  and  its  lamps 
wane,  or  are  extinguished.  Yet  our  blessed 
ones,  lost  for  a  time  on  earth,  are  they  not  to 
be  found  in  heaven  ?  Only  a  little  in  advance 
of  us,  have  they  forded  the  dark  river.  See  we 
not  their  white  garments  glitter  from  the  oppo 
site  shore  ?  Does  not  their  smile  inspire  us 
with  courage  ourselves  to  launch  away  ?  We 
go  not  to  a  stranger's  land.  Is  not  that  glorious 
clime  of  our  hope,  endeared  by  the  thought  that 
so  many  of  those  whom  we  best  loved  here, 
await  us  there  ?  that  the  hands  which  we  here 
pressed  so  fondly  shall  renew  the  love-clasp, 
which  death  for  a  moment  sundered  ?  that  those 
voices  which  have  never  ceased  to  linger  in  our 
hearts  as  a  treasured  melody,  shall  be  the  first 
to  welcome  us  to  the  society  of  an  "  innumer- 


OLD.  23 

able  company  of  angels,  and  to  the  spirits  of 
the  just  made  perfect  ? " 

Whoever  persists  in  complaining  of  this 
mortal  life,  virtually  admits  that  he  desires 
another.  Are  we  ready  for  an  untried  exist 
ence  ?  ready  at  a  moment's  warning  to  launch 
away,  and  return  no  more  ?  ready  for  its  atmos 
phere  and  service  of  love  ? 

If  any  preparation  for  this  change  of  clime 
is  incomplete,  let  us  address  ourselves  fervently 
to  the  work,  without  loss  of  time  or  energy,  in 
murmuring.  We  might,  indeed,  from  loneliness 
and  morbidness,  multiply  complaints  without 
end.  The  habit  might  grow  with  indulgence, 
till  every  breath  became  a  claim  for  sympathy, 
or  an  objurgation  if  it  were  withheld. 

But  cui  bono  ?  Have  not  others  infirmities 
and  troubles  as  well  as  ourselves  ?  Why  add  to 
our  own  load  ?  Would  it  not  be  better  to  take 
a  part  of  theirs  ?  "  Bear  ye  one  another's  bur 
dens,  and  so  fulfil  the  law  of  Christ."  It  hath 
been  well  said  that  "  murmuring  is  a  black  gar 
ment,  and  becometh  none  so  ill  as  saints." 

Oh  friends  !  let  us  not  lose  our  interest  in 
life's  blessings,  because  we  have  so  long  enjoyed 
our  share  of  them.  Rather,  as  an  eloquent 
writer  of  our  own  has  said,  will  we  "  arise,  and 


24  PAST     MERIDIAN.' 

throw  open  a  window  in  our  hearts,  and  let  in 
the  tone  of  the  bird,  and  the  breath  of  the 
violet."  We  will  not  permit  that  bright  heart- 
window  to  be  sealed,  nor  the  hand,  through 
our  own  inertness,  to  become  paralyzed,  while 
genial  nature  still  spreads  her  charms  around 
us,  and  invites  us  to  rejoice  in  them,  and  in  the 
God  who  gave  them. 


CHAPTEE    III. 


"  Gather  earth's  glory  and  bloom  within, 
That  the  soul  may  be  brighter  when  vouth  is  past." 

MRS.  OSGOOD. 

"  THE  senses,"  says  Lord  Bacon,  "  are  report 
ers  to  the  mind."  No  wonder  that  they  should 
get  wearied  with  taking  evidence,  when  the 
case  is  kept  before  the  court  some  three  or  four 
score  years.  It  is  only  surprising  that  their 
declension  should  not  be  expected. 

Various  expedients  have  the  ingenuity  of 
man  devised,  to  strengthen  their  weakness,  or 
supply  their  loss.  The  spectacle-maker  fur 
nishes  eyes,  and  the  dentist  teeth.  The  wor 
shipful  fraternity  of  wig  fanciers,  cover  bald 
temples  with  hair,  to  any  desired  pattern  or 
2 


26  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

hue.  The  crutch-vender,  and  the  cork-worker, 
do  their  best  to  aid  diseased  locomotion.  The 
tiny  curving  trumpet,  promises  to  stir  the  dull 
tympanum. 

Yet,  can  any  human  power  revivify  the 
defunct  ear  ?  If  sound  hath  died  in  its  myste 
rious  temple,  is  there  a  resurrection,  a  second 
life  ?  Among  the  senses,  that  of  hearing  is 
prone  to  "be  the  most  frequently  impaired,  and 
when  lost,  to  awaken  the  least  sympathy.  The 
hand  is  involuntarily  stretched  to  lead  the 
blind,  or  to  give  a  seat  to  the  lame.  But,  at 
the  approach  of  the  deaf,  there  is  a  flight,  or 
with  those  who  remain  a  sense  of  labor.  No 
long  conversations  can  be  anticipated,  save  with 
the  long-suffering.  Deafness,  more  than  other 
infirmities,  repels  intercourse,  and  cuts  the  links 
that  bind  man  to  society. 

Has  our  ear  grown  weary  ?  It  has  heard 
many  discords  in  its  day,  without  a  doubt. 
The  nerves,  its  ambassadors,  may  need  repose. 
It  is  true  that  we  are  thus  prevented  from  ren 
dering  ourselves  agreeable  in  society.  But, 
perhaps,  when  we  were  there,  we  did  not  do  or 
receive  •  any  great  amount  of  good.  Possibly, 
our  oral  contributions  to  knowledge  may  not  be 
much  missed,  and  meditation  may  be  as  serv- 


REPORTERS.  2? 

iceable  to  us  as  the  taking  in  of  new  supplies. 
It  may  be  our  true  wisdom  to  withdraw  from 
the  traffic  of  words,  and  cultivate  a  more  thor 
ough  acquaintance  with  our  own  hearts,  and 
our  hearts'  true  friends,  the  angels.  Perchance 
we  have  lingered  long  enough  among  earth's 
broken  tones,  and  are  called  to  reserve  our  list 
ening  powers  for  the  melodies  of  heaven. 

The  eye,  that  keeps  so  fresh  our  blessed 
communion  with  nature,  has  that  become  dim  ? 
Are  those  who  "  look  out  at  the  windows,  dark 
ened  ? "  Must  the  world  of  books  be  in  a  great 
measure  closed  to  us,  or  perhaps,  the  dear  faces 
of  friends  shrouded  ?  Then,  the  soul's  pictures 
gather  clearness,  and  memory  walks  in  halls 
where  is  perpetual  light.  Thought  concen 
trates  itself,  and  makes  its  work  more  perfect. 
Should  we  have  had  the  Iliad  of  Homer,  or  the 
greater  poems  of  Milton,  or  the  histories  of 
Prescott,  if  the  outer  eye  had  not  been 
"  quench'd  by  drop  serene,"  and  the  flashing 
of  the  world's  torches  and  flambeaux  shut  out 
from  the  mind's  sanctuary  ?  Hear  the  brave, 
blind  old  poet, 

"  So  much  the  rather,  thou  Celestial  Light, 
Shine  inward,  and  the  soul  thro'  all  her  powers 
Irradiate." 


28  PAST     MEKIDIAN. 

Good  and  faithful  servants  have  the  report 
ing  senses  been  to  us.  Year  after  year  have 
they  spread  for  us  the  charms  of  nature,  and 
"brought  us  the  music  of  the  living  world,  and 
the  odor  of  the  rose,  and  the  thrill  of  the  love- 
kiss,  and  the  pleasure  drawn  from  the  essences 
of  earth's  fruits,  and  from  that  inferior  creation 
which  was  yielded  to  man's  dominion,  that  the 
nutriment  of  their  life  might  sustain  his  own. 
If  any  of  those  sentinels  at  length  slumber  at 
their  post,  if  they  falter  or  decay,  we  will  not 
view  it  as  an  infliction,  or  an  affliction,  but 
rather  as  a  tranquillizing  pause  of  preparation 
for  a  state  where  they  are  no  longer  needed. 
While  we  rejoice  that  they  have  for  so  many 
years  been  continued  to  us,  we  will  not  forget 
to  be  thankful  that  we  have  ourselves  also  been 
spared  for  further  improvement. 

How  many  dangers  have  been  overruled 
that  we  might  be  sheltered.  What  hosts  of 
enemies  have  been  trodden  down  that  we  might 
live.  In  how  many  nameless  forms  does  death 
beset  helpless  infancy.  From  the  cradle  what 
an  unending  procession  to  the  grave.  The 
little  hand  falls  powerless,  the  eye  just  learn 
ing  to  love  the  light,  retires  within  its  sealed 
fringes,  the  tongue  that  began  to  lisp  the 


REPORTERS.  29 

mother's  name  is  mute,  and  she,  with  a  sorrow 
that  words  have  never  told,  is  a  weeper  over  a 
small,  green  mound,  or,  starting  at  midnight, 
stretches  her  empty  arms  in  vain.  Yet,  from 
the  foes  that  beset  waking  life,  we  have  been 
aved. 

The  child  at  school,  having  surmounted  the 
perils  of  earlier  years,  is  considered  compara 
tively  safe.  Who  says  there  is  safety  at  any 
age,  if  he  has  heard  the  funeral  prayer  by  the 
pale  clay  so  late  full  of  vigor,  and  seen  the 
school-mates  move  a  mournful  train,  to  the  cold 
bed  of  the  loved  sharer  in  their  studies  and 
their  sports. 

Youth  is  forth,  like  the  morning  sun,  upon 
the  green  hilltops.  Its  cheek  is  bloom ;  its 
step,  grace ;  its  voice,  melody.  ~No  care  hath 
touched  it,  and  kneeling  love  worships  it  as  an 
idol.  Rose  there  a  voice  upon  the  saddened 
air,  "  ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust !  "  All  is 
over.  Perchance,  it  was  our  bosom's  friend. 
Yet  we  lived,  and  passed  onward. 

The  father  and  mother  are  the  center  of  a 
happy  circle.  All  their  powers  are  in  requisi 
tion  to  protect,  to  guide,  to  foster  the  children 
whom  God  hath  given  them.  They  seem  essen 
tial  to  their  welfare,  not  only  for  the  "  life  that 


30  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

now  is,"  but  for  that  which  is  to  come.  Their 
place  is  empty.  Their  voice  is  silent.  To  the 
home  of  their  love  they  return  no  more,  and 
the  orphans  go  about  the  streets. 

But,  have  we  been  permitted  to  see  our 
nursery  plants  grow  up,  and  cast  a  fair  shadow  ? 
Have  we  taken  a  blossom  from  their  stem,  a 
baby  grandchild  upon  our  knee,  and  felt  its 
velvet  fingers  moving  lovingly  amid  our  silver 
hairs,  and  fresh  life  entering  into  our  veins  from 
its  quickly  beating  heart,  or  merry  laughter  ? 
And,  was  not  this  new  affection  as  fond  as  that 
of  young  paternity,  as  warm  with  fresh  hope, 
and  perchance  even  more  pleasant,  in  being 
freed  from  an  anxious  burden  of  accounta 
bility  ? 

Why  should  we  ever  forget  to  be  thankful  ? 
Does  the  soldier,  standing  at  his  own  quiet  door, 
having  left  most  of  his  comrades  stark  and  stiff 
on  fields  of  warfare,  feel  no  gratitude  ?  Does 
the  sailor,  whose  companions  sank  with  the 
wrecked  ship,  view  with  indifference  the  life 
boat  that  rescued  him  from  the  whelming 
wave  ? 

Behold,  from  the  battle  and  the  storm,  we 
have  been  saved.  Wherefore  we  are  thus  dis 
tinguished,  it  is  not  for  us  to  say.  Yet  a  weight 


REPORTERS.  31 

of  obligation  rests  on  us,  to  render,  in  some 
proportion,  according  to  the  benefits  we  have 
received,  and  the  risks  from  which  we  have 
been  shielded. 

Are  we  not  in  life's  school,  the  highest  class  ? 
the  longest  under  training  ?  and  probably  the 
first  to  be  dismissed  ?  How  can  we  best  prove 
that  our  tuition  has  not  been  in  vain  ?  that  He 
who  hath  granted  us  such  a  protracted  term  of 
fatherly  discipline,  may  not  pronounce  us  idle 
scholars,  or  profitless  stewards  of  his  abound 
ing  mercy  2  So  faithfully  served  by  his  report 
ers,  we  should  surely  be  able  to  present  a  good 
report  at  last. 

Sometimes,  in  seasons  of  earnest  supplica 
tion,  we  may  have  felt  as  if  we  could  adopt  the 
appeal  of  the  endangered  debtor,  "  Have  pa 
tience  with  me,  and  I  will  pay  thee  all." 

The  Master  hath  had  patience  with  us. 
How  have  we  performed  our  part  of  the 
contract  ? 


CHAPTER   IY. 


Cnstoig  of 


The  old  man  sate  in  his  elbow  chair, 

His  locks  were  thin  and  gray  ; 
Memory,  that  early  friend,  was  there, 
And  he  in  querulous  tones  did  say, 
"  Hast  thou  not  lost,  with  careless  key, 
Something  that  I  entrusted  to  thee  ?  " 
Her  tardy  answer  was  sad  and  low, 
"  Alas,  I  fear  that  it  may  be  so." 

KNOWLEDGE,  in  all  ages  of  the  civilized 
world,  has  been  prized  and  coveted.  The 
cloistered  monk  made  it,  of  old,  a  substitute 
for  life's  warm  charities,  and  the  philosopher 
of  modern  times  finds  in  it  a  more  permanent 
distinction  than  rank  or  wealth  can  bestow. 
The  pleasures  of  original  thought,  of  deep  re 
search,  of  high  converse  with  nature  or  art,  are 
a  rich  reward  for  the  perseverance  they  require. 


THE      CUSTODY      OF     KNOWLEDGE.       33 

For  them,   contemplative   and   ambitious   men 
have  been  content 

"  To  scorn  delights,  and  live  laborious  days." 

To  the  mind  thus  elevated,  even  the  bliss 
of  heaven  is  enhanced  by  the  thought  that 
there  its  aspirations  will  be  freed  from  the 
barriers  and  obstacles  that  fettered  them  here 
below.  A  fair,  young  creature,  to  whom 
death  had  dealt  the  final  stroke,  pointed  up 
ward  in  ecstatic  hope,  and  said,  with  her  ebb 
ing  breath, 

"  There  boundless  floods  of  knowledge  roll, 
And  pour,  and  pour  upon  the  soul." 

To  retain,  as  well  as  to  amass  this  precious 
treasure,  is  a  point  of  immense  importance. 
The  "  custodia,"  or  military  guard  of  the  an 
cient  Romans,  led  chained  to  his  left  hand,  the 
prisoner  or  captive  committed  to  his  charge. 

Of  memory,  we  are  wont  to  expect  similar 
vigilance.  The  tendency  of  advanced  age  is  to 
impair  this  custody.  Whether  the  tendency  is 
inevitable,  or  to  be  resisted,  is  an  inquiry  of 
serious  import. 

The  venerable  President  Quincy,  whose 
retentive  powers,  and  mental  elasticity,  sur- 


34:  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

mount  the  pressure  of  time,  thus  pleasantly 
alluded  to  this  subject,  in  a  speech  on  a  public 
occasion  in  Boston,  after  he  had  numbered 
seventy  years : 

"  To  an  old  man,  Memory  is  wont  to  be  an 
arrant  jilt,  and  is  no  way  delicate  in  letting  him 
know  that,  like  the  rest  other  sex,  she  gives 
young  men  the  preference." 

The  fidelity  of  Memory  is  doubtless  more 
entire,  for  trusts  committed  to  her  in  early  life. 
She  had  then  fewer  objects  to  divide  her  atten 
tion,  and  more  room  in  her  casket  to  arrange 
her  accumulated  stores.  She  attaches  a  height 
ened  value  to  what  was  gained  with  toil,  so 
that  the  axioms  and  precepts  which  were  deep 
ened  by  education  seldom  escape  her. 

There  are  some  who  propose  the  use  of  writ 
ten  memoranda,  as  an  expedient  for  mental  re 
tention.  Yet,  they  serve  rather  to  nourish  the 
sloth  of  Memory,  than  to  gird  her  for  health 
ful  action.  Is  it  necessary  that  she  should 
fail  with  years,  unless  the  action  of  disease 
impairs  some  of  those  organs  through  whose 
agency  she  has  been  accustomed  to  receive  im 
pressions  ? 

The  women  of  our  aborigines  were  the 
keepers  of  the  archives  and  legendary  lore  of 


THE      CUSTODY      OF     KNOWLEDGE.       35 

their  tribes.  In  extreme  age,  their  powers  of 
recollection  have  been  observed  to  be  perma 
nent  and  vivid.  I  saw  a  female  of  the  Mohe- 
gan  nation,  who  had  numbered  one  hundred 
and  seventeen  years.  The  skin  upon  her  face 
and  hands  was  rigid  and  mottled  as  the  bark 
of  a  tree,  and  from  her  eyes  light  had  long  de 
parted.  Yet,  within,  the  lamp  of  memory 
clearly  burned.  She  spoke  of  the  state  of  her 
people,  in  the  far-off  days  of  her  childhood,  of 
the  terror  they  felt  at  the  powerful  and  savage 
Mohawks,  of  the  lineaments  of  different  chief 
tains  who  had  borne  sway,  and  of  the  spread 
ing  strength  of  the  whites,  who  like  a  great 
oak-tree  overshadowed  them.  She  graphically 
narrated  many  circumstances  of  the  visit  of  her 
brother,  the  Rev.  Samson  Occum,  to  England, 
of  the  kindness  that  was  shown  him  there  by 
the  great  and  good,  the  presents  that  were 
made  him,  and  spoke  especially  of  the  books 
that  he  so  proudly  brought  back  to  his  native 
shores. 

A  highly  valued  friend  of  mine,  who  reached 
the  age  of  a  hundred,  whose  memory  was  not 
confined  to  the  impressions  of  early  years,  took 
sympathetic  cognizance  of  passing  events.  A 
perfectly  amiable  temper  kept  awake  his  inter- 


36  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

est  in  all  around,  and  prevented  the  herrnetical 
sealing  of  what  only  concerned  his  own  early 
and  immediate  sphere. 

That  infirmity  of  the  retentive  faculties  is 
inseparable  from  advanced  age,  seems  the  gen 
eral  opinion.  I  would  ask  if  it  is  a  condition 
of  mind,  exclusively  confined  to  the  old  ?  I 
think  I  have  known  t'he  blooming  and  the  vig 
orous  to  forget  many  things.  The  young  girl 
may  forget  to  learn  her  lesson,  and  the  gradu 
ate  of  college  the  lessons  that  he  has  learned. 
The  philosopher  has  been  known  to  forget  his 
own  theories,  and  the  eloquent  statesman  to 
pay  his  debts.  It  is  not  the  exclusive  province 
of  gray  hairs  to  forget  attainments,  resolutions, 
or  promises.  There  was  a  gentleman  who  had 
the  reputation  of  forgetting  the  precise  hour 
that  had  been  appointed  for  his  marriage,  and 
was  found  prolonging  a  walk,  when  the  bridal 
party  had  assembled.  Whether  this  was  real 
forgetfulness,  or  affectation,  I  was  not  given  dis 
tinctly  to  understand.  But,  at  any  rate,  he  had 
not  lost  his  memory  through  age. 

Consider  what  untiring  efforts  are  made,  to 
strengthen  the  retentive  powers  of  the  young. 
Stated  lessons  through  their  whole  scholastic 
period,  daily  recitation  and  repetition,  conversa- 


THE      CUSTODY      OF     KNOWLEDGE.       37 

tion  with  teachers  and  fellow-pupils,  deepening, 
riveting,  incorporating  knowledge  with  the  very 
structure  of  the  mind.  Memory  is  thus  made  a 
prompt,  active  servant.  She  is  strong  through 

exercise.     She  has  no  time  to  idle  away.     She 

i/ 

is  busy,  tinging  dreams,  even  when  the  body 
sleeps. 

But  we,  who  have  been  warned  of  her  dis 
position  to  become  a  deserter,  take  few  precau 
tions  to  detain  her.  Perhaps  we  feed  her  on 
the  old,  mouldy  corn,  and  neglect  to  give  her  a 
taste  of  the  new  harvest.  Cognizance  of  pass 
ing  things,  as  well  as  of  recorded  events,  is 
essential  to  her  healthful  condition. 

I  had  a  friend,  God  bless  every  memorial 
and  mention  of  him,  who  to  the  verge  of  eighty, 
labored  to  preserve  a  naturally  strong  memory, 
not  only  by  interest  in  the  concerns  of  others, 
but  by  learning  daily,  by  heart,  something 
from  books.  Can  we  not  form  the  habit  of 
acquiring,  verbatim,  every  day,  a  few  lines  of 
poetry,  or  a  single  verse  from  the  Bible  ? 

Carit  we  remember?  I  suspect  the  failure 
to  be  that  of  sufficient  repetition.  No  one  is 
interested  to  hear  us.  The  child,  whose  first 
faltering  intonations  we  fostered  with  parental 
pride,  is  immersed  in  the  cares  of  life,  and  can 


38  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

not  regard  our  fragmentary  gleanings.  We 
need  not  expect  our  children,  or  grandchildren, 
to  listen  to  our  mental  gatherings,  as  we  have 
done  to  theirs.  Friends  and  visitants  we  would 
not  wish  to  annoy,  and  thus  the  privilege  of 
repetition,  on  which  memory  so  much  depends, 
is  forfeited. 

An  aged  gentleman,  who  was  not  willing  to 
lose  the  advantage  of  deepening  the  traces  of  a 
course  of  history  he  was  pursuing,  devised  an 
ingenious  expedient.  A  promising  youth,  the 
expenses  of  whose  education  he  was  kindly 
defraying,  came  daily  at  a  regular  time  to  read 
to  him.  He  employed  a  portion  of  this  interval 
in  a  condensed  statement  of  what  he  had  pe 
rused  in  solitude,  and  was  surprised  how  ten 
aciously  it  afterward  adhered  to  remembrance. 
Thus  the  pupil  unconsciously  became  a  teacher, 
and  the  benefactor  shared  in  his  own  gifts. 

Why  would  it  not  be  well  for  neighbors 
who  are  advanced  in  years,  to  meet  at  allotted 
periods,  and  converse  critically  of  the  authors 
they  are  reading,  and  repeat  what  they  have 
considered  worthy  to  be  committed  to  mem 
ory  ?  If  it  should  seem  too  much  like  a  school, 
is  there  any  objection  to  that  ?  Why  might 
there  not  be  schools  for  the  aged,  as  well  as 


THE      CUSTODY      OF     KNOWLEDGE.       39 

"schools  of  the  prophets?"  Life  is  a  school. 
"  I  shall  be  thankful  to  die,  learning  some 
thing,"  said  a  wise  man. 

The  truth  is,  that  Memory  requires  more 
culture,  than  the  aged  are  inclined  to  give  her. 
They  take  it  for  granted  that  she  must  decay, 
and  antedate  the  time.  They  release  her  from 
service  among  the  living  present,  and  force  her 
to  look  only  backward,  until  the  sinews  of  her 
neck  are  stiffened.  One  method  of  engraving 
what  we  do  not  wish  to  forget,  is.  to  teach  it  to 
others.  An  auditory  of  little  ones  will  natur 
ally  hang  around  the  old  person  who  tells  them 
stories.  Grave  truths,  and  sacred  precepts,  may 
be  thus  enwrapped  in  "  sugary  narrative,"  with 
a  salutary  and  lasting  influence.  One  aged  per 
son  who  had  been  in  the  habit  of  briefly  writing 
in  a  journal,  from  early  life,  found  it  profitable, 
in  his  nightly  self-examination,  to  trace  back 
the  same  day  through  many  years,  recalling  the 
dealings  of  divine  providence  with  himself  and 
others,  and  selecting  some  subject  for  the  little 
descriptive  entertainment  his  grandchildren  had 
been  trained  to  expect  from  him  every  morning. 

It  has  been  already  admitted  that  passing 
events  are  more  difficult  to  be  retained  by  the 
aged  than  those  which  were  coeval  with  their 


40  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

prime.  Is  not  the  antidote  to  mingle  as  much 
interest  and  affection  as  possible  with  the  mov 
ing  drama  of  life,  and  its  actors  ?  to  entwine 
around  each  new  generation  the  links  of  love  ? 
Memory,  thus  fed  Tby  living  sympathies,  like 
the  Roman  captive,  nourished  at  his  daughter's 
breast,  would  sustain  solitude  and  flourish. 

"  Ah  !  when  shall  all  men's  good 
Be  each  man's  care  ?  and  universal  love 
Strike,  like  a  shaft  of  light,  across  the  land  ?  " 

Should  it  be  felt,  or  feared,  that,  in  spite  of 
every  precaution,  Memory  does  indeed  grow  in 
ert  to  intellectual  gatherings,  or  to  the  routine 
of  daily  events,  that  she  records  not,  as  former 
ly,  the  dates  of  history,  or  the  names  of  men,  let 
the  heart  breathe  upon  her.  That  is  Ithuriel's 
spear.  Though  her  key  may  have  been  so  long 
used  that  some  of  its  wards  are  worn,  Love's 
hand  can  turn  it. 

Heart-memories  are  the  most  indelible.  A 
woman  of  more  than  fourscore,  in  whom  sick 
ness  had  prostrated  both  physical  and  mental 
energies,  failed  to  state  correctly  even  the  num 
ber  of  her  children.  A  friend  endeavored  to 
restore  the  imagery  of  active  years,  but  in  vain. 
At  length,  the  circumstance  of  her  father's  leav- 


THE      CUSTODY      OF     KNOWLEDGE.       41 

ing  home  to  take  a  soldier's  part  in  the  war  of 
our  Revolution  was  accidentally  mentioned.  It 
had  called  forth  the  deep  anxieties  of  an  affec 
tionate  family,  when  she  was  yet  a  young  child. 
The  fountain  of  the  heart  heaved,  light  came  to 
her  eye,  and  a  tear  glittered  there,  as  she  mur 
mured, 

"  I  remember — yes — I  remember  his  kiss 
when  he  turned  away  from  the  door.  It  is 
warm  on  my  cheek  now." 

If  Memory  is  weary,  it  is  safe  to  sustain  her 
on  the  arm  of  that  blessed  charity  which  em 
braces  all  mankind.  The  religion  whose  seat  is 
in  the  affections,  survives  when  polemic  fervor 
and  theological  subtleties  are  lost  in  oblivion. 
The  instance  of  the  aged  clergyman,  who  forgot 
his  boyhood's  friend,  the  favorite  son  under 
whose  roof  he  dwelt,  and  the  darling  babe  who 
was  daily  brought  to  nestle  in  his  bosom,  yet 
remembered  the  name  of  his  "  dear  Saviour,  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  is  well-known,  but  always 
worthy  of  being  repeated. 

If  holy  love  thus  keeps  alive  the  memory, 
like  living  waters  at  its  root,  when  its  green 
leaves  are  crisp  with  frost,  let  us  labor  to 
strengthen  that  love  toward  God,  and  likewise 
toward  this  fleeting  world,  precious  because  it 


42  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

is  His  world,  and  His  hand  has  placed  us  as 
pilgrims  in  it.  Yet,  should  we  have  evidence 
within  ourselves  that  Memory  has  become  vacil 
lating  or  infirm,  we  will  be  in  no  haste  to  pro 
claim  it  on  the  housetops.  There  are  enough 
who  are  ready  and  swift  to  publish  the  declen 
sion,  if  we  admit  it  ourselves.  Rather  should 
we  straggle  to  keep  hold  of  the  hand  of  that 
old  and  tried  friend  as  long  as  possible.  We 
will  not  expose  her  weakness,  nor  say  that  she 
has  deserted  us,  while  we  can  touch  the  hem  of 
her  garment.  We  will  not  see  her  go  forth, 
like  Hagar  from  Abraham's  tent,  without  put 
ting  on  her  shoulder  the  water-bottle,  that  she 
may  refresh  herself  in  the  wilderness.  Though 
she  return  no  more  to  the  oaks  of  Mamre,  yet, 
if  we  are  at  last  so  blessed  as  to  meet  the  an 
gels  who  visited  there,  she  will  be  with  them : 
— for,  6'he  is  never  to  die. 


CHAPTER   V. 


of 


The  principle  of  beauty  hath  no  age, 
It  looketh  forth,  even  though  the  eye  be  dim, 
The  forehead  frost-crowned,  yea,  it  looketh  forth 
Like  holy  star,  on  all  whom  God  hath  made. 

THE  beauty  of  age  !  Does  any  one  call  me 
ironical,  or  point  the  finger  in  derision  ?  Verily, 
I  ani  speaking  in  good  faith. 

Yet,  am  I  not  ignorant  of  what  Time  takes 
away.  I  know  that  he  is  prone  to  steal  from 
the  eye  its  lustre,  and  from  the  Parian  brow  its 
smoothness.  The  round  cheek  falls  away  at  his 
ploughshare,  and  the  dimples  disappear.  The 
hair,  no  longer  abundant,  leaves  the  bald  crown 
or  withered  temples  unshielded.  Its  hues  of 
chestnut,  or  auburn,  or  raven  black,  vanish, 
and  the  complexion,  unrelieved  by  their  rich 


44  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

contrast,  loses  its  tint  of  rose  or  lily,  and  settles 
into  the  trying  companionship  of  iron-grey,  or 
white.  The  erect  form  yields  its  dignity.  The 
vertebral  column  bends,  and  the  limbs  resign 
their  elasticity.  Happy  are  they  who  are  com 
pelled  to  call  in  no  aid  from  crutch  or  staff,  to 
sustain  their  footsteps.  The  beautiful  hand 
loses  its  plumpness,  and  bones,  and  sinews,  and 
jagged  veins  become  protuberant.  Even  the 
ear  sometimes  forfeits  its  delicate  symmetry, 
and  grows  elephantine.  The  voice  is  prone  to 
forget  its  harmony ;  or,  unmodified  by  its  dental 
allies,  "  pipes  and  whistles  in  its  sound." 

All  these  deteriorations,  and  more  than 
these,  I  admit,  yet  boldly  sustain  my  argument, 
the  beauty  of  age. 

Where  is  it  ?  In  what  does  it  consist  ?  Its 
dwelling  is  in  the  soul,  and  it  makes  itself  visi 
ble  by  radiations  that  reach  the  soul ;  by  the 
smile  of  benevolence,  by  limitless  good  will,  by 
a  saintly  serenity,  by  the  light  of  heaven, 
shining  upon  the  head  that  is  so  near  it. 

The  smile  of  Washington,  wThich  had  always 
possessed  a  peculiar  charm,  gathered  force  and 
sweetness  from  the  snows  of  time.  One  who 
was  accustomed  to  meet  him  in  the  family,  says, 
"  Whenever  he  gave  me  one  of  those  smiles,  I 


BEAUTY      OF     AGE.  45 

always  felt  the  tears  swelling  under  my  eye 
lids." 

What  an  affecting  sketch  of  the  tranquil 
beauty  of  age,  on  which  death  has  set  its  seal, 
is  given  in  a  letter  from  Pope,  to  an  artist 
whom  he  desires  to  preserve  the  likeness  of  the 
mother  whose  declining  years  were  soothed  by 
his  filial  love  and  duty. 

"  My  poor  old  mother  is  dead.  I  thank 
God  that  her  death  was  as  easy  as  her  life  has 
been  innocent ;  and,  as  it  cost  her  not  a  groan, 
or  even  a  sigh,  there  is  still  upon  her  counte 
nance  such  an  expression  of  tranquillity,  nay, 
almost  of  pleasure,  that  it  is  amiable  to  behold. 
It  would  afford  the  finest  image  of  a  saint  ex 
pired  that  painter  ever  drew ;  and,  it  would  be 
the  greatest  obligation  which  that  art  could 
bestow  on  a  friend,  if  you  could  come  and 
sketch  it  for  me.  I  hope  to  see  you  soon,  ere 
this  winter-flower  shall  have  faded.  I  will 
defer  the  interment  until  to-morrow  night.  I 
know  you  love  me,  or  I  could  not  have  written 
this,  or  indeed,  at  such  a  time,  have  written  at 
all.  Adieu.  May  you  die  as  happy." 

At  his  villa  of  Twickenham,  bought  with 
the  first  fruits  of  his  translation  of  Homer's 
Iliad,  the  poet  sheltered  and  solaced  this  vener- 


46  PAST      MEE1DIAN. 

able  mother.  From  her  honored  seat  at  his 
fireside,  her  tender,  simple  message  cheered  him 
amid  his  toils.  "  I  send  you  my  daily  prayers, 
and  I  bless  you,  my  deare."  More  touching 
and  admirable  was  the  interchange  of  these  hal 
lowed  sensibilities  than  all  the  melody  of  his 
verse. 

Of  the  intrinsic  beauty  of  age,  I  have  been 
so  happy  as  to  see  some  distinguished  speci 
mens.  My  infant  eyes  opened  upon  one.  My 
earliest  perceptions  of  the  beautiful  and  holy 
were  entwined  with  silver  hairs,  and  I  bless 
God  that  the  fourteen  first  years  of  life  were 
nurtured  under  their  serene  shadow.  The 
name  of  Lathrop  has  been  ever  dear  to  me, 
for  her  who  bore  it.  A  fair  countenance,  a 
clear,  blue  eye,  and  a  voice  of  music,  return  to 
me  as  I  recall  the  image  of  that  venerated  lady, 
over  whom  more  than  threescore  and  ten  years 
had  passed  ere  I  saw  the  light.  Her  tall,  grace 
ful  form,  moving  with  elastic  step  through  the 
parterres,  whose  numerous  flowers  she  superin 
tended,  and  her  brow,  raised  in  calm  meditation 
from  the  sacred  volume  she  was  reading,  were 
to  me  beautiful.  Many  sought  to  take  counsel 
of  her,  both  for  the  things  of  this  life  and  the 
next,  and  her  words  were  so  uttered  as  to  make 


BEAUTY      OF      AGE.  47 

them  happier  as  well  as  wiser.  The  sorrowful 
came  to  be  enlightened  by  the  sunbeam  that 
dwelt  in  her  spirit,  and  the  children  of  want  to 
find  bread  and  a  garment ;  for,  her  wealth  was 
the  Lord's,  and  when  she  cast  it  into  His  treas 
ury,  it  was  with  a  smile,  as  if  she  was  herself 
the  receiver.  The  beauty  of  the  soul  was  hers, 
that  waxeth  not  old.  Love  was  in  her  heart  to 
all  whom  God  had  made,  a  love  not  ending  in 
blind  indulgence,  but  seeking  to  elevate  them 
in  the  scale  of  existence.  Thus  it  was  until 
eighty-eight  years  had  passed  over  her ;  and 
when  she  entered  the  exalted  society  for  which 
she  had  been  fitted  here,  tears  flowed  widely 
and  freely,  as  for  one  in  their  prime.  At  her 
grave  I  learned  my  first  lesson  of  a  bursting 
grief  that  has  never  been  forgotten.  Let  none 
say  that  the  aged  die  unloved  or  uninourned  by 
the  young.  It  is  not  so. 

Another  I  knew  without  munificent  endow 
ment  of  mind,  person,  or  position.  Yet  had  he 
to  the  last  a  beauty  that  love  followed, — (my 
own  blessed  father !) — the  beauty  of  kind  re 
gard  to  all  creatures,  and  of  a  perfect  tempera 
ment  that  never  yielded  to  anger.  Hence,  the 
wheels  of  life  ran  on  without  chafing ;  and,  at 
the  age  of  eighty-seven,  his  step  was  as  elastic  as 


48  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

at  twenty,  the  florid  hue  of  his  cheek  unchanged, 
and  his  bright,  brown  hair,  without  a  thread  of 
silver.  He  loved  the  plants  and  flowers,  and 
knew  how  scientifically  to  promote  their  wel 
fare,  and  to  enrich  the  dark,  brown  mould  with 
golden  fruits,  and  fair  vine-clusters.  By  these 
sweet  recreations,  life  was  made  sweeter,  and 
renewed  its  pleasures,  like  the  fresh  spring- 
buds,  and  the  bird  that  returns  again  to  its 
nest  after  the  winter.  Sorrows  he  had  tasted, 
but  they  left  no  cloud,  only  a  deeper  tenderness 
for  all  who  mourned.  His  religion  had  no  mix 
ture  of  coldness  toward  those  who  differed  from 
him,  no  exclusiveness,  no  bigotry.  The  frailties 
of  those  around,  he  regarded  with  gentleness, 
or  with  pity.  He  blamed  not,  upbraided  not. 
On  his  loving  soul  there  was  no  slander-spot. 
His  life  was  like  one  long  smile,  closing  with  a 
music-strain.  And  on  it  was  written,  as  a  fair 
motto,  "  the  man  without  an  enemy" 

From  the  sacred  pictures  of  the  departed 
that  hang  in  the  soul's  temple,  I  would  fain 
select  another.  It  is  of  a  friend,  Daniel  Wads- 
worth,  Esq.,  who,  in  early  years,  suffered  from 
feebleness  of  constitution,  yet,  by  care  and  tem 
perance,  so  renovated  his  health,  that  age  was 
to  him  better  and  more  vigorous  than  youth. 


BEAUTY      OF     AGE.  49 

A  strong  perception  of  the  "beautiful,  both  in 
nature  and  art,  lighted  up  his  mind  with  a  per 
petual  sunbeam.  His  fine  taste  went  hand  in 
hand  with  a  beautiful  philanthropy,  so  that 
what  he  admired  he  patronized,  and  what  he 
patronized  he  spread  abroad,  that  others  might  . 
share  his  enjoyment.  The  gates  of  his  spacious 
rural  villa  were  thrown  open  as  a  pleasure- 
ground  for  all  the  people ;  and,  with  the  treas 
ures  of  literature  and  the  arts,  he  enriched  the 
noble  public  institute  that  he  founded.  The 
holy  truth  walked  ever  by  his  side ;  while 
independence  of  thought  and  action,  with 
regard  to  men,  was  mingled  with  the  deepest 
humility  and  reverence  toward  God.  To  draw 
merit  from  obscurity,  to  sustain  honest  indus 
try,  to  encourage  humble  virtue,  to  stimulate 
the  young  to  higher  effort,  and  silently  to  re 
lieve  the  suffering  poor,  were  his  pleasures. 
And,  with  these  pleasures  would  sometimes 
steal  over  his  brow  an  expression  denied  to 
what  the  world  calls  beauty,  "  the  set  of  fea 
tures,  and  complexion,  the  tincture  of  the  skin 
that  she  admires."  It  was  the  beauty  of  the 
soul,  looking  forth  in  the  life  of  one,  who  faith 
fully,  and  without  ostentation,  held  his  large 
fortune  in  stewardship  for  God  and  for  man. 

8 


50  PAST     MEBIDIAN. 

By  Ms  side  was  a  being  of  an  angelic  spirit, 
an  accomplished  daughter  of  the  second  honored 
Governor  Jonathan  Trumbull,  who  strengthen 
ed  all  his  high  resolves,  and  tenderly  divided 
his  sorrows  and  his  joys.  Methinks  I  see  her, 
as  if  she  now  sate  beside  me ;  her  delicate, 
upright,  symmetrical  form,  the  grace  of  her 
movements,  the  magic  of  her  smile,  the  cour 
teous  manners,  that  charmed  even  the  unre 
fined,  the  tasteful  adaptation  of  costume  to 
position,  and  the  perfect  judgment  that  led  her 
to  choose 

Best  means  for  wisest  ends,  and  speak  right  words 
At  fitting  times. 

She  was  said  to  have  been  exceedingly 
beautiful  in  youth,  but  the  portraits  of  that 
period  bore  no  resemblance  to  her  countenance 
in  advanced  years,  so  much  had  Time  changed 
its  structure.  Yet  she  held  a  talisman  over 
which  he  had  no  power,  a  goodness,  disrobed 
of  self,  enchanting  all  that  came  within  its 
sphere,  and  a  trusting  piety  that  knew  no  cloud. 

Thus  she,  and  the  companion  of  her  days, 
made  their  childless  home  attractive  to  every 
visitant,  until  the  verge  of  fourscore,  when  they 
entered  a  mansion  not  made  with  hands.  She 


BEAUTY      OF     AGE.  51 

was  first  summoned,  and  through  a  lingering 
decline,  sought  strength  from  above,  to  adhere 
as  far  as  possible  to  her  habits  of  usefulness, 
and  that  gentle  self-renunciation,  which,  in  pro 
moting  the  good  of  others,  forgot  its  own  suffer 
ings.  As  her  step  grew  feeble,  her  brow  be 
came  more  sweetly  serene,  and  daily  she  took 
her  seat  at  the  table,  and  the  fireside,  that  she 
might  cheer  him  by  her  presence,  whose  life  of 
life  was  in  her. 

The  last  night  that  she  was  with  us  below, 
she  spent,  as  usual,  some  time  in  her  oratory, 
ere  retiring  to  her  chamber  for  repose.  What 
the  angels  said  to  her,  in  that  sacred  seclusion, 
or  what  she  said  to  her  God,  we  know  not ; 
but,  at  the  midnight  hour,  they  came  to  bear 
her  to  Him.  And  she  was  ready. 

It  was  not  for  us  to  hear  their  whisper, 
"  Sister  spirit,  come  away  !  "  but,  we  saw  that 
they  left  on  the  untroubled  brow,  a  smile  as 
calm,  as  holy,  as  their  own.  And  we  gave 
glory  to  God,  through  our  tears,  for  her  blessed 
example,  who  had  departed  this  life  in  His  faith 
and  fear. 

Countless  instances  might  be  adduced  of  the 
subdued  and  saintly  lustre  that  marks  the  sun 
set  of  well-spent  life.  And,  it  would  be  pleas- 


52  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

ant  to  me  thus  to  enlarge,  for  it  has  been  my 
privilege  often  to  be  near,  and  always  to  admire 
the  "hoary  head  found  in  the  way  of  right 
eousness." 

I  must  indulge  myself  and  my  readers  with 
one  more  example.  It  occurs  in  a  description 
from  the  graceful  pen  of  N.  P.  Willis,  of  his 
own  beautiful  rural  life  on  the  banks  of  the 
Hudson. 

"  Our  venerable  neighbor,  of  eighty  years  of  age,  with  his 
white  locks,  and  face  beaming  with  the  benignity  of  a  summer's 
evening,  came  back  at  the  first  softening  of  the  season.  He 
goes  to  the  city, — this  beloved  neighbor  of  ours, — when  the 
roads  become  impassable  for  his  tremulous  feet ;  but,  he  gains 
health  (as  he  was  saying,  with  his  usual  truthful  wisdom,  to 
day),  not  alone  from  the  sidewalks  and  other  opportunities  of 
exercise.  In  the  mental  *  change  of  air '  he  finds  an  invigorating 
tonic  (one,  by  the  way,  which  I  am  glad  of  this  bright  example 
to  assist  in  recommending  to  the  dispirited  invalid,  for  there  is 
more  medicine  in  it  than  would  be  believed,  without  trial),  and 
he  inhales  it  in  the  larger  field  that  he  finds  for  the  instructive 
benevolence  which  forms  his  occupation  in  the  country.  He 
passes  his  time  in  the  city  in  visiting  schools,  hospitals,  prisons, 
— every  place  where  human  love  and  wisdom  would  look  in  to 
gether.  He  speaks  fluently.  His  voice  is  singularly  sweet  and 
winning;  and,  with  his  genial  and  beautiful  expression  of 
countenance,  his  fine  features,  and  the  venerable  dignity  of  his 
bent  form,  in  its  Quaker  garb,  he  is  listened  to  with  exceeding 
interest.  Children  particularly  delight  to  hang  on  his  words. 
One  great  charm,  perhaps,  is  his  singular  retention  of  creative- 
ness  of  mind, — though  so  old,  still  continuing  to  talk  as  he 
newly  thinks,  not  as  he  remembers.  The  circumstances  of  the 


BEAUTY      OF     AGE.  53 

moment,  therefore,  suffice  for  a  theme,  or  for  the  attractive 
woof  on  which  to  broider  instruction,  and  he  does  it  with  a 
mingled  playfulness  and  earnestness  which  form  a  most  attrac 
tive  as  well  as  valuable  lesson.  Can  any  price  be  put  on  such 
an  old  man,  as  the  belonging  of  a  neighborhood  ?  Can  land 
scape  gardening  invent  anything  more  beautiful  than  such  a 
form  daily  seen  coming  through  an  avenue  of  trees,  his  white 
locks  waving  in  the  Avind,  and  the  children  running  out  to  meet 

him  with  delight  ?     Friend  S strolls  to  Idlewild  on  any 

sunny  day,  and  joins  us  at  any  meal,  or  lies  down  to  sleep  or 
rest  on  a  sofa  in  the  library, — and,  can  painting  or  statuary  give 
us  any  semblance,  more  hallowing  to  the  look  and  character  of 
a  home,  more  cheering  and  dignifying  to  its  atmosphere  and 
society  ?  Among  the  Arts — among  the  refinements  of  taste — in 
the  culture  of  Beauty,  in  America — let  us  give  Old  Age  its  pre 
eminence  !  The  best  arm-chair  by  the  fire-side,  the  privileged 
room,  with  its  warmest  curtains  and  freshest  flowers,  the  prefer 
ence  and  the  first  place  in  all  groups  and  scenes  in  which  Age 
can  mingle — such  is  the  proper  frame  and  setting  for  this  price 
less  picture  in  a  home.  With  less  slavery  to  business,  and  bet 
ter  knowledge  and  care  of  health,  we  should  have  more  Old  Age 
in  our  country  :  in  other  words,  for  our  homes  there  would  be 
more  of  this  most  crowning  beauty." 

Youth  hath  its  fascinating  smile, 

Its  cheek  of  rose-bud  ray  ; 
They  charm  the  admiring  eye  awhile, 

Then  fade,  and  fleet  away  ; 
But  Age,  with  heaven-taught  wisdom  crown'd, 

That  waits  its  Father's  will, 
And  walks  in  love  with  all  around, 

Hath  higher  beauty  still. 

Are  not  the  changes  in  man's  life,  like  those 
of  the  day  and  the  seasons,  beautiful  ?     Morn 


54  PASTMEEIDIAN. 

is  fair,  but  we  would  not  always  have  it  morn 
ing.  Noon  is  brilliant,  but  the  wearied  senses 
crave  repose,  as  from  the  excitement  of  an  Arc 
tic  summer.  Evening,  with  her  placid  moon, 
through  the  chequering  branches,  disguises 
every  blemish,  bathes  the  simplest  architecture 
in  a  flood  of  silver  light,  and  makes  the  vine- 
clad  cottage  and  the  antique  column  alike 
beautiful. 

Even  though  it  should  chance  to  be  winter, 
yet  shrink  not  to  come  forth,  with  a  heart  to 
admire  and  love  ;  for,  through  the  bare  trees, 
the  silver  queen  of  heaven  looks  down  more 
clearly,  and  the  untrodden  snow-hills  rejoice  in 
her  beam,  and,  amid  the  pure,  blue  ether,  the 
stars  multiply,  each  giving  secret  sweet-voiced 
welcome  to  the  soul  that  is  soon  to  rise  above 
their  spheres. 


CHAPTEE   VI. 


"  And  now,  behold,  your  tender  nurse,  the  air, 

And  common  neighbor,  that,  with  order  due, 
Whene'er  you  breathe,  doth  in  accordance  move, 

Now  in,  now  out,  in  time  and  measure  true  ; 
And,  when  you  speak,  so  well  the  art  she  loves, 

That,  doubling  oft,  she  doth  herself  renew ; 
For,  all  the  words  that  from  your  lips  repair 
Are  but  the  countless  tricks  and  turnings  of  the  air." 

SIR  JOHN  DAVIES. 

"  A  mighty  quaint  old  motto" — do  I  hear 
any  one  say?  Well,  its  quaintness  does  not 
destroy  its  meaning,  and  we  need  not  take  it 
upon  ourselves  to  contemn  it,  because  it  hap 
pens  to  be  old. 

Its  author,  Sir  John  Davies,  who  was  born 
some  three  hundred  years  since,  was  a  very 
respectable  personage.  He  knew  what  he  was 
about,  and  Queen  Elizabeth,  who  was  shrewd 
enough  generally  to  know  what  she  was  about, 


56  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

placed  him  in  posts  of  importance  and  respon 
sibility,  notwithstanding  he  was  a  poet.  An 
able  lawyer  was  he,  as  well  as  a  man  of  talents, 
and  promoted  to  the  office  of  lord  chief  justice 
of  the  king's  bench,  under  James  the  First. 
He  presents  himself  to  us,  as  talking  about  the 
a&>,  whose  various  ministries  he  seems  to  have 
studiously  comprehended. 

Indeed,  the  affinity  of  all  the  elements  with 
the  comfort  and  welfare  of  man  is  beautiful. 
One  inspires  his  infant  frame  with  vitality,  one 
warms  it,  one  refreshes  it ;  and  in  the  last  dream 
less  sleep,  another  mournfully  spreads  a  turf  cov 
ering,  sprinkled  with  flowers.  Each  in  their 
turns  have  won  eloquent  praise. 

Zoroaster  and  his  followers  deified  the  sub 
tle  Fire,  in  which  they  recognized  the  great 
vivifying  principle  of  the  universe.  Pliny,  and 
other  ancient  philosophers,  applauded  the  per 
vading  love  of  the  Earth  for  her  offspring, 
which,  like  a  watchful  mother,  fed  and  clothed 
the  creature  of  the  dust,  and  folded  his  latest 
sorrow  in  her  bosom.  Water  has  been  the  fa 
vorite  of  the  moderns,  who  have  discovered  in 
it  new  affinities  with  health,  and  almost  uncon 
trollable  agencies  in  the  realm  of  nature.  Our 
own  simple  remarks  will  be  confined  to  the  re- 


AIR.  57 

maining  "  ministering  particle  "  of  air, — which, 
though  not  subjugated  by  man  to  such  count 
less  varieties  of  servitude,  he  is  dependent  on 
for  every  breath  that  he  draws.  Earth  he  bur 
dens  with  palaces  and  pyramids,  the  pent  fires 
do  his  bidding,  and  his  ships  rule  the  moun 
tain-wave.  But  he  inflates  a  balloon,  and  the 
storm-cloud  overturns  it,  and,  perhaps,  takes 
the  life  of  the  headlong  aeronaut.  In  his  rev 
erie,  he  builds  a  castle  on  the  air,  and  where 
is  it? 

Yet,  this  imperious  and  impervious  element, 
the  master  of  his  life,  how  varied  and  earnest 
are  its  ministrations  for  his  welfare.  If  he  will 
systematically  combine  it  with  active  exercise, 
it  gives  him  strength  and  vigor.  Of  this,  the 
advanced  in  years  seldom  are  sufficiently  aware. 
They  suffer  lassitude  to  steal  over  them,  till, 
like  the  sleeper  among  Alpine  snows,  they  arise 
no  more.  A  daily  walk  or  drive  in  the  open  air, 
preserves  energy,  and  quickens  the  tide  of  sym 
pathy  for  the  living  world. 

The  mother  country  gives  us,  in  this  respect, 
good  examples,  if  we  w^ould  but  heed  them. 
Her  young  infants  are  sent  forth  in  the  fresh 
morning  air.  Her  little  ones  gambol  in  the 
lawns  and  parks.  Her  ladies  are  great  pedes- 

3* 


58  PAST      MEEIDIAN. 

trians,  fearless  of  rain  or  cold.  Her  gentlemen, 
however  burdened  with  important  concerns, 
always  find  time  for  muscular  action.  Even 
those  who  have  reached  a  patriarchal  age,  often 
persevere  in  equestrian  exercise,  that  elegant 
form  of  recreation,  which,  more  than  any  other, 
keeps  alive  the  consciousness  of  manly  power 
and  dignity. 

I  have  seen,  in  my  native  land,  some  strik 
ing  instances  of  the  protracted  power  and  en 
joyment  of  this  invigorating  exercise.  Among 
childhood's  unfading  sketches  of  my  native 
place,  is  the  figure  of  a  beautiful  old  man  of 
eighty-four,  Dr.  Joshua  Lathrop,  of  Norwich, 
Conn.,  who,  until  the  brief  illness  that  preceded 
dissolution,  took  daily  equestrian  excursions, 
withheld  only  by  very  inclement  weather. 
Me  thinks,  I  clearly  see  him  now ; — his  small, 
well-knit,  perfectly  upright  form,  mounted  upon 
his  noble,  lustrous  black  horse,  readily  urged  to 
an  easy  canter,  his  servant  a  little  in  the  rear. 
I  see  the  large,  fair,  white  wig,  with  its  depth 
of  curls,  the  smartly  cocked  hat,  the  rich  buckles 
at  knee  and  shoe,  and  the  nicely  plaited  ruffles, 
over  hand  and  bosom,  that  in  those  days  desig 
nated  the  gentleman  of  the  old  school.  Re 
peated  rides  in  that  varied  and  romantic  region, 


AIR.  59 

were  so  full  of  suggestive  thought  to  his  reli 
gious  mind,  that  he  was  led  to  construct  a  good 
little  book,  in  dialogue  form,  on  the  works  of 
nature,  and  nature's  God,  entitled,  "The  Fa 
ther  and  Son,"  which  we  younglings  received 
with  great  gratitude  from  its  kind-hearted  au 
thor  :  juvenile  works  not  being  then  so  nu 
merous  as  to  be  slightly  prized.  His  quick, 
elastic  step  in  walking,  his  agility  in  mounting 
and  dismounting  his  steed,  as  well  as  his  calm, 
happy  temperature,  were  remarkable,  and  a 
model  for  younger  men. 

Yet,  it  is  not  necessary  thus  to  turn  to  the 
far-off  past  for  examples  of  perseverance  and 
grace  in  this  exhilarating  exercise.  But  a  few 
years  since,  I  saw  the  venerable  Colonel  E. 
Moss  White,  of  Danbury,  Connecticut,  riding 
very  firmly  and  gracefully  on  horseback  when 
considerably  past  fourscore.  It  was  on  the 
occasion  of  the  imposing  ceremonies  connected 
with  the  public  erection  of  a  monument  to  the 
memory  of  General  David  Wooster,  the  revolu 
tionary  patriot  and  martyr.  Amid  thousands 
thronging  the  streets,  he  was  observed  passing 
and  re-passing,  at  an  early  hour,  to  the  lofty 
Cemetery-Hill,  engaged  in  preliminary  arrange 
ments  for  the  splendid  masonic  rites  that  were 


60  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

to  mark  the  burial  of  the  fallen  brave.  As  the 
long  procession  moved  on,  with  civic  and  mili 
tary  pageantry,  his  spirited  animal  took  fright 
at  the  unfurling  of  a  banner,  when  the  octoge 
narian  rider  (to  whom  he  was  a  stranger,  hav 
ing  given  up  his  own  horses  for  the  services  of 
the  day)  managed  him  with  a  serene  self-pos 
session  and  perfect  skill,  which  few  men  in  the 
prime  of  their  strength  could  have  surpassed  or 
equalled.  In  habits  of  activity  he  persevered 
to  a  very  advanced  age,  his  life  being  pro 
tracted  amid  affectionate  descendants  to  the 
verge  of  ninety.  "  Always  cheerful  was  he," 
said  an  intimate  observer, — happy  at  his  work, 
happy  amid  his  farm,  happy  in  his  home,  with 
children  and  friends  around  him.  He  bore  the 
very  impress  of  contentment  on  his  bland  and 
beaming  countenance.  I  have  a  framed  medal 
lion  of  three  photographic  likenesses  taken  of 
him,  at  the  respective  ages  of  thirty,  sixty,  and 
eighty-seven — the  last  of  which  I  consider  the 
most  beautiful,  as  bearing  most  decidedly  an  ex 
pression  of  a  goodness  and  happiness,  which 
were  confirmed  by  time. 

The  late  Rev.  Dr.  Kendal,  of  Massachusetts, 
who  nearly  completed  the  period  of  ninety 
years,  persevered  in  that  active  out-door  exer- 


AIR.  61 

cise  which,  contributes  to  vigor  and  energy. 
Driving  himself,  at  one  time,  several  miles  from 
home,  the  reins  chanced  to  part,  and  the  horse 
became  unmanageable.  It  being  in  the  coun 
try,  none  were  near  to  render  assistance.  The 
venerable  gentleman,  leaping  from  the  carriage, 
over  the  wheels,  seized  the  horse  by  the  head, 
while  at  a  brisk  movement,  and  subjected  him 
to  control.  It  was  pleasant  to  see  a  feat  of  such 
activity,  so  admirably  performed,  at  so  ad 
vanced  a  period  of  life. 

To  those  not  inured  to  equestrian  exercise, 
a  daily  walk  in  the  open  air,  not  so  far  extend 
ed  as  to  involve  weariness  or  fatigue,  is  salu 
tary,  even  in  extreme  old  age.  To  connect 
these  excursions  with  a  definite  object,  either 
the  cherishing  of  friendly  intercourse,  the  sight 
of  an  interesting  prospect,  edifice,  or  institution, 
or  the  dispensing  some  comfort  to  the  abode  of 
poverty,  adds  decidedly  to  their  happy  physical 
influence. 

Of  Isaac  T.  Hopper,  the  benevolent  Quaker, 
who,  till  his  eighty-first  year,  continued  his 
daily  researches  through  the  streets  of  New 
York,  on  errands  of  mercy,  with  such  proverbial 
activity,  it  was  said  by  his  biographer,  Mrs. 
Child,  that  "  he  would  scarcely  allow  the  dr;- 


62  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

vers  to  stop  for  him,  at  ascending  or  descending 
from  their  vehicles.  Few  ever  passed  him 
without  asking  who  he  was ;  for,  not  only  did 
his  primitive  dress,  broad-brimmed  hat,  and 
antique  shoe-buckles,  attract  attention,  but  the 
beauty  and  benevolence  of  his  face,  were  sure 
to  fix  the  eye  of  ordinary  discernment.  He  was 
a  living  temperance  lecture,  and  those  who 
desire  to  preserve  good  looks,  need  not  ask  a 
more  infallible  recipe  than  that  sweet  temper 
and  active,  overflowing  benevolence,  which 
made  his  countenance  so  pleasing  to  all." 

Peregrine  White,  the  first-born  Saxon  in 
New  England,  the  lone  baby  of  Cape  Cod,  who 
opened  his  eyes  ere  the  tossing  Mayflower 
touched  Plymouth  Rock,  trod  with  firm  step, 
until  his  death  at  eighty-four,  the  sands  of 
Marshfield,  taking,  with  unshrinking  breast, 
deep  draughts  of  the  bleak  sea-air.  His  eldest 
daughter,  Sarah,  the  wife  of  Mr.  Thomas 
Young,  of  Scituate,  Mass.,  inherited  his  hardi 
hood  and  love  of  the  open  air,  and  retained  an 
unusual  degree  of  health  and  mental  activity, 
till  the  advanced  age  of  ninety-two. 

Peregrine  White,  over  whose  honored  re 
mains  a  monument  is  soon  to  be  raised,  served 
the  colony  with  fidelity,  both  in  civil  and  niili- 


AIE.  63 

tary  offices.  "  He  continued,"  say  the  ancient 
records,  "  vigorous  and  of  a  comely  aspect  to 
the  last ;  "  battling  the  sharp  breezes  of  a  rock- 
bound  shore,  while  monarch  after  monarch, 
reared  in  the  luxury  of  palaces,  fell  from  the 
throne  of  the  parent  realm. 

King  James,  the  pedant,  found  a  tomb, 

King  Charles  at  Whitehall  bled  ; 
Stout  Cromwell  held  a  twelve  years'  rule, 

And  slumbered  with  the  dead  ; 
The  second  Charles,  with  gibe  and  jest, 

His  royal  realm  survey'd ; 
The  second  James,  in  panic  haste, 

Fled  from  the  wreck  he  made  ; 
William  and  Mary,  hand  in  hand, 

Their  sceptre's  sway  sustain'd ; 
Queen  Anne,  the  last  of  Stuart's  band, 

In  pomp  and  splendor  reign'd  : 
Seven  sovereigns,  from  old  Albion's  throne, 

Stern  Death,  the  spoiler,  swept, 
While  still  his  course,  erect  and  firm, 

New  England's  patriarch  kept. 

Frequent  open  communion  with  the  atmos 
pheric  air,  if  not  an  absolute  necessity  of  our 
being,  seems  an  essential  condition  of  vigorous 
health.  The  pursuits  that  promote  that  inter 
course,  such  as  horticultural,  or  floricultural,  it 
is,  therefore,  desirable  to  cultivate. 

On  inquiring  for  an  aged  man,  at  his  door, 
a  bright-eyed  boy  said, 


64  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

"  My  grandfather  has  gone  out  for  his 
morning  walk.  I  love  to  have  him  go,  be 
cause  he  always  comes  back  pleasant  and 
happy." 

The  child  had  gotten  the  true  philosophy 
of  the  case.  We  met  the  silver-haired  friend, 
returning  with  a  freshened  cheek,  and  a  smile, 
as  if  he  rejoiced  in  the  sweet  air,  and  in  Him 
who  gave  it.  A  kind  word  had  he  ever  for  all, 
and  so  he  said  cheerfully, 

"  I  have  just  set  up  a  banner,  to  wave  in 
the  breeze,  when  I  am  dead." 

It  seems  he  had  been  transplanting  a  shade- 
tree,  of  a  species  often  destined  to  attain  con 
siderable  size. 

."  The  soil  was  not  congenial,"  he  added,  "  so 
I  had  it  removed  for  an  area  of  three  or  four 
feet,  and  stepped  into  the  pit  myself,  to  place 
the  roots  and  delicate  fibres  at  ease  in  their 
new  bed.  I  sprinkled,  at  first,  the  pulverized 
earth  and  rich  compost  over  them,  while  my 
man  added  water  gradually,  treading  down  the 
surface  firmly,  as  much  as  to  say  to  the  new 
comer,  '  keep  at  home,'  and  finishing  with  a  cav 
ity  around  the  trunk,  as  a  casket  to  hold  such 
pearl-drops  as  the  clouds  see  fit  to  give." 

Perceiving  that  his  practical  remarks  were 


A IE.  65 

listened  to  with  interest,  he  kindly  proceed 
ed : 

"I  caused  the  body  and  principal  boughs 
to  be  bathed  in  soap-suds,  and  rubbed  with  a 
coarse  cloth,  to  refresh  it  hydropathically  after 
the  trial  of  leaving  its  old  home ;  and  before 
the  high  winds  of  winter  come,  shall  have 
stones  placed  around,  to  keep  the  roots  from 
being  shaken  and  troubled.  My  wife  takes  an 
interest  in  these  things.  I  love  to  have  her 
hold  the  tree,  when  I  transplant  it.  I  fancy  it 
is  more  likely  to  grow,  and  get  a  blessing,  if 
her  hand  has  been  on  it.  We  planted  a  tree  at 
the  birth  of  all  our  children.  Perhaps  we 
shall  yet  set  out  a  grove  before  we  die." 

The  animated  countenance  of  the  aged 
speaker  reminded  me  of  the  enthusiasm  with 
which  Sir  Walter  Scott  used  to  expatiate  on 
the  "  exquisite  pleasures  of  planting."  The 
greater  part  of  the  noble  trees  at  Barley- Wood 
were  placed  there  by  the  hand  of  the  venerable 
Mrs.  Hannah  More ;  and  a  cabinet-table,  which 
she  prized,  and  often  pointed  out  to  the  atten 
tion  of  visitants,  was  inlaid  with  small  diamond- 
shaped  pieces  of  wood,  from  different  trees  of 
her  own  rearing.  Those  who  in  early  life  re 
joiced  in  the  culture  of  flowers,  their  own  em- 


66  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

blem  of  hope  and  beauty,  might  with  propriety, 
in  later  years,  transfer  this  care  to  the  nurture 
of  fruit  and  shade  trees,  those  types  of  bounty 
and  beneficence ;  acceptable  parting  gifts  to 
mankind,  and  blessings  to  the  nested  birds, 
"  that  sing  among  the  branches." 

To  those  whose  infirmities  preclude  the 
pleasure  of  active  exercise  out  of  doors,  there 
still  remain  restricted  forms  of  fellowship  with 
the  renovating  air,  which  it  is  important  to 
secure.  The  invalid  lady  who  perseveres  as  far 
as  possible  in  her  daily  ride,  notwithstanding 
lassitude  or  debility  tempts  to  the  indulgence 
of  repose,  does  not  lose  her  reward.  The 
blessed  element,  thus  solicited,  sustains  the 
worn  frame,  and  sweeps  away  many  of  the 
morbid  fancies  and  groundless  fears  that  disease 
engenders. 

A  lady,  who  was  not  able  to  bear  the  fa 
tigue  of  systematic  riding,  told  me  she  had 
maintained  some  degree  of  vigor,  and,  perhaps, 
resisted  pulmonary  tendencies,  by  a  brief  yet 
systematic  intercourse  with  the  morning  air,  for 
a  short  time,  through  her  window.  Opening  it, 
and,  if  the  current  proved  too  fresh,  wrapping 
herself  in  a  shawl,  she  inhaled  deep  draughts, 
holding  her  breath  until  the  minute  vessels  of 


AIK.  67 

the  lungs  were  saturated  with  air,  and  then 
casting  it  off,  by  throwing  out  the  arms  to  ex 
pand  the  chest. 

Mrs.  Emma  Willard,  of  Troy,  in  her  re 
markable  treatise,  "  On  the  Motive  Powers  that 
produce  the  Circulation  of  the  Blood,"  thus  de 
scribes  a  course  by  which  she  had  been  enabled 
so  long  to  persist  in  the  preparation  of  those 
excellent  works  which  have  given  her  a  high 
rank  among  American  writers.  After  speaking 
of  her  care  to  preserve  an  equal  and  moderate 
degree  of  warmth,  during  the  cold  seasons,  she 
says : — 

"  In  the  morning,  I  usually  exercised  about  an  hour,  in  ac 
cordance  with  some  housekeeping  habits.  During  the  day,  I 
took  exercise  once  in  two  hours.  Letting  down  the  upper  sash, 
and  facing  the  current  of  fresh  air,  I  began  moderately,  increas 
ing  my  exercise  until  it  became,  for  a  few  moments,  violent ; 
stepping  backward  and  forward,  to  keep  my  face  to  the  win 
dow,  and  moving  my  arms  in  a  manner  to  expand  the  chest. 
Then,  as  the  quick,  deep  breathing  came  on,  and  the  inspira 
tions  of  air  were  as  refreshing  as  water  from  a  cool  spring  in 
summer,  I  checked  my  exercise  to  give  full  play  to  the  respira 
tory  organs,  and,  when  I  had  breathed  the  pure  air  till  I  was 
satisfied,  closed  the  window,  sat  down,  and  wrapped  my  cloak 
around  me,  to  make,  for  a  few  minutes  longer,  breathing  my 
chief  employ.  The  additional  garment  kept  the  heightened 
temperature  which  exercise  had  given  from  passing  off  by  evap 
oration,  and  I  sat  down  to  my  writing,  with  fresh  blood  in  my 
brain  and  hand,  and  with  a  warmth  far  more  genial  than  that 
of  a  furnace  heat.  After  dinner,  I  '  slept  awhile,'  and  then  em- 


68  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

ployed  myself  in  reading ;  and,  after  tea,  completed  the  old 
rhyme  by  '  walking  a  mile.'  In  the  evening,  I  thus  found  my 
self  as  vigorous  for  writing  as  in  the  morning,  and  often  wrote 
several  hours  before  retiring." 

As  the  result  of  this  system,  she  states  that, 
at  the  end  of  three  years  and  a  half,  during 
which,  especially  in  the  winter,  she  labored 
from  twelve  to  fourteen  hours  a  day,  in  study 
and  writing,  she  had  better  health  than  at  the 
commencement  of  these  severe  toils,  it  was  a 
source  of  satisfaction  to  her  friends  that,  at 
nearly  seventy,  she  should  have  made  her  sec- 
ond  tour  in  Europe,  with  a  bright  spirit,  and 
much  of  the  lingering  comeliness  of  her  early 
prime,  cheered  also  by  that  appreciation  in  for 
eign  lands,  which  she  has  so  well  merited  in 
her  own.  Gratitude  is  also  her  due,  as  a  pioneer 
in  the  noble  field  of  education,  where  she  entered 
early,  and  continued  long.  Thousands  of  her 
own  sex,  who  have  enjoyed  the  benefit  of  her 
instructions,  and  those  of  her  amiable  sister, 
Mrs.  A.  H.  L.  Phelps,  a  resident  of  Baltimore, 
and  likewise  a  successful  authoress,  proudly 
cherish  their  memories,  and  form,  as  it  were,  a 
line  of  posts  through  almost  our  whole  extent 
of  country  where,  in  travelling,  they  are  loving 
ly  welcomed,  as  honored  guests. 


AIR.  69 

Air,  whose  free  embrace  greetetli  every  one 
wlio  comes  into  the  world,  should  be  welcomed 
until  they  go  out  of  it.  Painful  contrast  has 
taught  its  value  to  the  pining  sufferer  in  the 
fever-wards  of  some  crowded  hospital,  and  to 
the  pale  prisoner  in  his  grated  cell.  The  cap 
tives  in  the  hideous  "  donjon-keeps "  of  the 
feudal  times,  or  the  wretched  victims  in  the 
Black  Hole,  at  Calcutta,  terribly  tested  the 
worth  of  that  gift  to  which  we  are  too  often 
culpably  indifferent. 

I  hope  to  be  excused  for  any  minute  or  com 
mon-place  detail,  which  may  have  occurred  in 
this  chapter,  and  for  having  written  con  amore 
of  what  has  seemed  to  me  an  important  adjunct, 
if  not  an  essential  element  of  that  priceless  pos 
session,  mens  sana,  in  corpore  sano? 

But  this  subtle  element  of  air,  so  powerful 
over  our  physical  and  mental  organization,  hath 
it  aught  to  do  with  moral  structure,  or  spiritual 
welfare  ?  Yes — modified  by  eloquence,  it  rules 
the  multitude  of  minds  ;  swelling  into  music,  it 
stirs  up  passionate  admiration ;  wrought  into 
words  of  compassion,  it  heals  the  broken  in 
heart ;  breathing  from  the  soul  of  piety,  it 
quickens  the  souls  of  others,  as  by  the  spirit  of 
the  Lord. 


70  PAST     MEKIDIAN. 

Whom  see  we  on  yonder  couch  ?  One 
whose  work  on  earth  is  finished.  Air  is  about 
to  forsake  him.  The  lungs  collapse.  He  is 
lifeless. 

Hath  he  then  taken  final  leave  of  the  air  ? 
No.  In  the  form  of  words  here  uttered,  air 
sliaped  into  sound, — in  the  form  of  deeds 
springing  from  those  words, — air  shaped  into 
action,  it  shall  meet  him  at  the  judgment. 

Let  us,  therefore,  dear  friends,  as  long  as  we 
are  dwellers  in  the  body,  beware  how  we  use 
this  wondrous  element  of  air,  lest  that  on 
which  we  have  never  laid  our  hand,  should 
fearfully  confront  us,  when  the  "  books  are 
opened,  and  the  dead,  small  and  great,  stand 
before  God." 


CHAFTEE   VII. 


Domestic 


"  This  is  the  place.     Stand  still,  my  steed, 

Let  me  review  the  scene, 
And  summon  from  the  shadowy  Past 

The  things  that  once  have  been  : 
For,  Past  and  Present  here  unite, 

Beneath  Time's  flowing  tide, 
Like  footprints  hidden  by  a  brook, 
But  seen  on  either  side." 

LONGFELLOW. 

GEKMANY,  where  domestic  anniversaries  are 
the  most  pleasantly  cherished,  is  distinguished 
by  a  healthful  growth  of  domestic  happiness. 
Recurrences  of  the  marriage-day,  of  the  births 
of  children,  grandchildren,  and  especially  of  the 
silver-haired  grandparents,  are  welcomed  with 
fond  and  fervent  congratulations. 

In  that  country,  the  Golden  Bridal,  as  it  is 
called,  or  the  fiftieth  return  of  the  marriage-day, 
is  marked  by  ceremonies  peculiarly  striking  and 


PAST     MERIDIAN. 

national.  Preparations  for  a  domestic  festival 
are  made,  and  the  rooms  richly  adorned  with 
flowers.  The  venerable  pair,  arrayed  in  their 
best  garments,  and  surrounded  by  children  and 
near  relatives,  receive  visitors  and  congratula 
tions  as  if  about  to  begin  life  anew.  This  senti 
ment  pervades,  in  some  measure,  the  whole  en 
tertainment.  Wedding  gifts  are  brought,  and, 
mingled  with  them,  are  notes  of  love  and  good 
wishes,  bursting  forth,  as  the  German  heart  is 
wont  to  do,  into  strains  of  poetry. 

Mr.  R.  S.  Willis  has  thus  graphically  de 
scribed  a  scene  of  this  nature,  which  he  was 
permitted  to  witness. 

"  The  venerably  youthful  pair  sate  side  by  side,  in  two  great 
arm-chairs,  the  very  picture  of  mellow  and  serene  old  age. 
Those  capacious  chairs  were  also  among  the  gifts,  having  been 
exquisitely  embroidered  by  fair  hands.  Suspended  above  them 
hnng  their  portraits,  taken,  indeed,  at  a  much  earlier  period, 
but  which  seemed  not  half  so  beautiful,  in  their  youthful  linea 
ments,  as  the  venerable  heads  which  now,  in  the  calm  Indian 
summer  of  life,  rose  beneath  them.  From  two  large  vases 
below,  on  either  side  of  the  portraits,  sprang  two  vigorous 
shoots  of  living  ivy,  ascending  and  enwreathing  them,  and 
forming  a  kind  of  triumphal  arch  over  the  couple  beneath, 
whose  accomplishment  of  fifty  years  of  such  unclouded,  exem 
plary  married  life,  might  well  be  regarded  as  a  triumph,  and  as 
such  be  celebrated." 

Then  follows  an  enumeration  of  the  pres- 


DOMESTIC     FESTIVALS.  3 

ents,  many  of  which  were  costly,  for  the  aged 
bridegroom,  having  been  a  composer  and  teach 
er  of  music,  had  instructed  some  pupils  of 
wealth  and  rank,  who  vied  with  each  other,  on 
this  occasion,  in  testifying  their  affectionate 
regard.  A  wreath  of  laurel  was  thrown  over 
the  snowy  locks  of  the  patriarch,  and  one  of 
myrtle  placed  on  the  head  of  his  companion,  by 
a  fair  young  girl  of  the  Rhine,  an  affianced 
bride,  who,  in  her  kiss,  besought  the  blessing 
of  one  who  had  so  long  beautified  that  "  holy 
estate,"  upon  which  she,  as  a  novice,  was  about 
to  enter. 

After  the  dinner,  where  two  long  tables 
were  filled  by  descendants  and  guests,  a  depu 
tation  of  the  musical  pupils  assembled  in  an 
adjoining  apartment,  to  cheer,  by  the  melody 
of  voice  and  instrument,  the  heart  of  their  old 
master,  and  his  friends. 

"  No  sooner,"  continues  the  narrator,  "  had  he  recognized  the 
performers,  and  the  tones  of  his  own  early  devotional  music, 
than,  lifting  the  little  velvet  cap  which  always  covered  his 
head,  his  silver  locks  floating  out,  and  raising  his  glistening 
eyes  to  God,  to  whom  those  solemn  strains  were  addressed,  he 
seemed  for  a  moment  overcome  with  gratitude  to  Him." 

In  our  own  country,  these  household  eras 
are  winning  more  frequent  regard,  though  with 
less  of  romantic  accompaniment.  John  Quincy 


PAST     MEEIDIAN. 

Adams,  the  last  summer  that  he  passed  on 
earth,  celebrated  in  his  own  sacred  home-circle, 
the  Golden  Wedding ;  an  epoch  which  was  also 
reached  by  his  ow~n  venerable  parents,  walking 
hand  in  hand  toward  that  clime  where  "  love  is 
indestructible." 

An  instance  of  the  quiet  observance  of  the 
sixtieth  anniversary  I  have  heard  described — 
a  rare  occurrence  in  this  world  of  mortality. 
The  age  of  both  the  parties,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Se- 
bor,  of  Middletown,  exceeded  fourscore,  yet 
their  forms  were  unbowed  ;  there  was  even  a 
lingering  of  early  comeliness,  and  that  smile  of 
the  spirit  which  gathers  depth  and  meaning 
from  long  knowledge  of  this  life,  and  firm  hope 
of  a  better.  They  had  entered,  in  the  bloom  of 
youth,  the  conjugal  relation,  and  "  commended 
it  in  the  sight  of  all  men,"  by  an  example  of 
steadfast  affection.  Three  generations  sur 
rounded  them  with  loving  reverence,  and,  in 
the  arms  of  one  bright-eyed  young  mother,  was 
the  germ  of  a  fourth, — a  rose-bud  within  a  rose. 
Among  the  antique  things  which  w^ere  pre 
served  and  exhibited,  were  the  small  salver 
with  which  they  commenced  housekeeping,  and 
the  very  same  little  cups  of  transparent  china, 
in  which  the  young  wife,  threescore  years  be- 


DOMESTIC      FESTIVALS. 

fore,  had  poured  tea  at  her  first  hospitalities. 
Warm  words  of  greeting  cheered  this  festival, 
and  a  fair  table  of  refreshments,  while  another 
was  spread  with  love-tokens,  and  gifts  of  friend 
ship.  Among  them  was  a  simple  offering,  yet 
of  singular  significance ;  a  small  parallelogram 
of  the  purest  wrhite  marble,  wrought  into  a 
double  watch-case,  and  surmounted  in  the  cen 
tre  by  a  cross  of  the  same  material.  In  the 
cavities,  lined  with  crimson  velvet,  reposed  the 
two  watches  of  the  aged  pair,  the  golden  links 
of  their  chains  intertwined  and  enwreathing 
the  cross.  There  were  the  monitors  and  meas 
ures  of  time,  long  used,  but  soon  to  be  needed 
no  more, — and  the  symbols  of  their  own  undy 
ing  love,  clasping  the  prop  that  could  never  fail 
or  forsake  it. 

Heartfelt  cheerfulness  marked  this  occasion, 
yet  nothing  that  could  war  with  the  prayer 
and  hymn  which  began  and  closed  it,  for  so 
many  of  the  descendants  shared  in  the  piety  of 
their  honored  ancestors,  that  such  worship  was 
in  unison  with  their  aspirations  and  joys.  Six 
ty  years  to  have  walked  hand  in  hand,  helpful 
and  loving,  on  their  appointed  way  over  moun 
tain  and  fiood,  and  through  gardens  wherein 
were  sepulchres,  lending  the  shoulder  to  each 


PAST     MERIDIAN. 

other's  burdens,  and  keeping  God's  sunbeam 
bright  in  the  soul ;  to  have  impressed  the 
precepts  of  a  Redeemer  on  the  young  creatures 
who  came  into  life  under  the  shadow  of  their 
tree  of  love,  and  to  become  themselves  more  and 
more  conformed  to  "  the  example  of  His  great 
humility,"  was  a  victory  that  might  not  only  be 
admired  on  earth,  but  approved  in  Heaven. 

An  interesting  celebration  of  the  sixtieth 
anniversary  of  the  marriage  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Wright  of  East  Hampton,  Mass.,  took  place  on 
the  14th  of  January,  1856.  Truly  a  winter's 
day  was  it, — cold,  icy,  keen, — but  with  a  pure 
exhilarating  atmosphere.  The  evening  lamps 
glittered  early,  and  at  six  o'clock  commenced 
the  festive  scene. 

The  aged  couple  were  in  health  and  happi 
ness.  The  memory  of  God's  great  goodness 
to  them  sate  on  the  smile  with  which  they  wel 
comed  kindred  and  friends.  Four  sons  were 
there,  with  their  households.  The  fifth,  whose 
family  altar  was  amid  the  snows  of  Wiscon 
sin,  cheered  their  hearts  by  an  affectionate 
epistle. 

A  few  invited  coevals  and  neighbors  gather, 
with  their  congratulations.  But  what  vener 
able  form  enters,  with  such  a  saintly  smile  ? 


DOMESTIC      FESTIVALS.  77 

All  cluster  around  him.  It  is  the  same  man  of 
God  who,  sixty  years  before,  had  pronounced 
the  nuptial  benediction,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Williston, 
whose  ninety-third  winter  sits  freshly  on  him. 
Still  he  lifts  his  hand,  and  blesses  them  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord. 

Four  of  the  guests  at  the  original  wedding 
are  present  at  this  commemoration.  Two  more 
survive,  but  denizens  of  a  distant  State.  It  was 
a  touching  part  of  the  scene  when  the  eldest  son, 
well  known  as  the  former  Principal  of  the  Wil 
liston  Seminary,  gave  utterance  to  his  feelings 
of  gratitude  and  reverence  for  his  aged  parents, 
interweaving  appropriate  facts  and  circum 
stances  that  absorbed  the  attention  of  every 
hearer. 

Happy  and  forcible  remarks  were  familiarly 
made  by  others,  on  the  beauty  of  bringing  forth 
fruit  in  old  age,  and  of  that  filial  piety  which 
has  kept  the  blessed  commandment  with  prom 
ise.  "  Then  the  young  rose  up  and  praised  the 
aged,  as  having  done  well  in  their  generation ; 
and  the  aged  replied  by  modest  disclaimer,  in 
sisting  that  they  had  not  done  so  well  but  that 
the  young  should  do  far  better,  following  more 
closely  the  Higher  Pattern,  even  Christ." 

When  the  season  allotted  to  refreshments 


78  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

arrived,  there  were  seen  seated  around  the 
board  of  distinguished  honor  six  personages, 
whose  united  ages  amounted  to  four  hundred 
and  eighty  years.  That  table  of  ancients ! 
What  countless  memories  were  there  embodied, 
what  treasures  of  experience,  what  wealth  of 
Christian  hope.  Sweet  and  solemn  was  the 
voice  imploring  a  blessing  and  rendering 
thanks  for  that  rich  repast :  the  voice  of  that 
beloved,  white-haired  minister,  soon  after  called 
to  a  more  exalted  and  eternal  banquet, 

The  closing  exercises  of  this  cheering  and 
rational  festivity  were  reading  from  the  Scrip 
tures,  prayer,  and  the  Doxology  in  the  -devout 
"  Old  Hundred,"  swelled  by  every  voice.  Then 
came  the  kind  parting  wishes,  and  the  separa 
tion  at  nine,  that  hour  wisely  set  apart  by  the 
early  fathers  of  our  country  for  drawing  home 
ward  every  wandering  wing  to  its  rest,  and 
folding  it  in  supplication  that  hallowed  the 
nightly  repose. 

Rare  was  this  sixtieth  anniversary,  not 
only  in  itself,  but  for  the  number  of  the  aged 
there  convened, — their  comfortable  health, — 
their  possession  of  muscular  activity  and  men 
tal  vigor, — their  sympathy  in  social  feeling 
and  the  faith  of  the  Gospel, — their  Christian 


DOMESTIC      FESTIVALS.  79 

rejoicing  in  their  children  and  their  childrens' 
children. 

It  has  been  mentioned,  that  Music  bore  a 
part  in  this  varied  festival.  The  melodies, 
so  often  overlooked  in  modern  psalmody,  were 
summoned,  and  many  an  aged  heart  thrilled 
with  early,  tender  associations,  at  the  full  tones 
of  "  St.  Martin's  "  and  «  Lenox,"  "  Majesty  "  and 
"  Greenville."  Among  the  hymns  adapted  to 
these  antique  tunes,  was  the  following  one, 
composed  for  the  occasion. 

Three  times  twenty  !     Three  times  twenty  ! 

How  those  years  have  sped  away, 
Since  the  wreath  of  young  affection, 

Brightened  on  our  Bridal  Day  ; 
Like  a  shadow  o'er  the  mountain, 

Like  a  billow  on  the  main, 
Like  a  dream,  when  one  awaketh, 

Tinted  both  with  joy  and  pain. 

Three  times  twenty  !     Three  times  twenty  ! 

While  the  years  their  circles  wove, 
Smiling  infants  sprang  around  us, 

Scions  from  our  Tree  of  Love  ! 
And,  with  patriarchal  pleasure, 

Still  another  race  we  view, 
And,  in  their  unfolding  promise, 

Seem  to  live  our  lives  anew. 

Three  times  twenty  !     Three  times  twenty  ! 
He  who  gave  our  marriage  vow 


80  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

Hallowing  it  with  prayer  and  blessing, 

Cheers  us  by  his  presence  now  : 
Faithful  Pastor  !  here  we  greet  thee 

May  the  flock  that  heard  thy  voice, 
Near  the  great  Chief  Shepherd  meet  thee, 

And  forevermore  rejoice. 

Three  times  twenty  !     Three  times  twenty  I 

Many  a  friend  of  earlier  days, 
To  a  higher  sphere  translated, 

Swells  the  angel  hymn  of  praise  ; 
And  the  glorious  hope  we  treasure, 

Side  by  side  with  them  to  stand, 
Whensoever  our  Father's  wisdom 

Warns  us  to  that  Better  Land  ! 

I  had  long  been  desirous  of  being  present 
at  a  golden  wedding,  and  was  much  gratified 
to  receive  an  invitation  to  one,  in  my  fail- 
native  city  of  Norwich,  in  May,  1862.  The 
charms  of  a  flowery  spring,  and  the  romantic 
surrounding  scenery,  conspired  to  heighten  the 
attractions  of  the  event.  General  and  Mrs. 
William  Williams  were  the  givers  of  this  fes 
tivity  ;  and  that  she  should  have  been  my 
schoolmate,  and  early  friend,  added  an  impulse 
of  tenderness  to  the  pleasure  with  which  the  in 
vitation  was  accepted. 

The  gifts  of  Flora,  in  bouquets,  vases,  fes 
toons,  and  arches,  decorated  the  apartments  of 
the  spacious  mansion.  The  wealth  of  neighbor- 


DOMESTIC      FESTIVALS.  81 

ing  green-houses,  with  those  from  New  York, 
was  poured  forth  to  overflowing.  A  magnificent 
pyramid,  composed  entirely  of  white  camelias, 
several  feet  in  height,  and  surmounted  by  a 
stately  callae,  stood  upon  a  frame,  in  the  post 
of  honor,  by  the  side  of  the  principal  group. 

The  bridegroom,  who  remarkably  retained 
health,  erectness,  and  vigor,  irradiated  by  his 
courteous  greeting  and  amiable  smile  all  who 
approached ;  while  his  companion,  having  been 
but  seventeen  at  the  time  of  their  marriage, 
with  still  unfrosted  hair,  graceful  form,  and  ele 
gant  costume,  received  their  guests  in  the  most 
agreeable  and  queenly  manner. 

The  reception  was  to  be  from  four  until 
eleven,  and  about  an  hour  after  the  arrivals 
commenced,  two  clergymen  came  forward,  one 
of  whom  uttered  a  devout  prayer,  and  the 
other  a  brief  and  appropriate  address. 

He  remarked  that  in  the  ecclesiastical  record 
of  his  predecessor,  the  Rev.  Joseph  Strong,  he 
found  the  announcement  of  a  marriage  solem 
nized  by  him  on  the  13th  of  May,  1812,  between 
William  Williams  and  Harriette  Peck.  That 
many  of  those  now  present  could  witness  that 
the  union  had  been  eminent  for  happiness,  hos 
pitality,  and  a  consistent  example  of  the  Chris- 


82  PAST      MEEIDIAN. 

tian  virtues.  Not  unmarked,  indeed,  by  the  dis 
cipline  of  a  wise  God,  who  saw  fit  to  remove 
from  them  both  their  children — the  fair  boy 
just  entering  into  life,  and  the  noble,  distin 
guished  man,  in  his  prime  of  days,  on  whom 
the  parents  were  beginning  to  lean.  Yet  had 
He  given  them  the  great  gift  of  charity,  to  guide, 
educate,  and  love  the  children  of  others,  and  by 
unwearied  benefactions  to  missions,  churches, 
schools,  and  other  forms  of  benevolence,  find,  in 
the  free  distribution  of  their  large  wealth,  solace 
for  their  sorrows,  and  confirmation  of  the  assur 
ance,  that  it  is  "  more  blessed  to  give  than  to 


receive." 


A  portion  of  this  address  might  have  been 
somewhat  trying  to  those  who,  in  their  benevo 
lent  deeds,  had  ever  shunned  the  applause  of 
men,  yet  seemed  a  fitting  ascription  of  praise  to 
Him  who  had  prompted  and  palpably  crowned 
their  bounties  with  His  blessing. 

After  these  religious  exercises,  the  numerous 
guests,  gathered  from  distant  townships  and 
different  States,  enjoyed  the  pleasures  of  con 
versation,  of  reunion,  or  recapitulation,  prome 
naded  through  the  parlors  and  halls,  filled  with 
the  incense  of  flowers,  or  participated  in  an  en 
tertainment,  where  all  that  taste,  luxury,  and 


DOMESTIC      FESTIVALS.  83 

liberality  could  suggest,  were  presented  in  theii 
most  elegant  forms,  with  the  exception  of  aughl 
that  might  intoxicate,  which  was,  from  princi 
ple,  omitted. 

No  gifts  had  been  anticipated  by  the  munifi 
cent  authors  of  this  festivity,  yet  several  tables 
were  covered  by  a  trousseau  seldom  surpassed 
in  richness  and  variety.  Many  of  the  articles 
were  peculiarly  beautiful  and  costly — the  great 
er  part  being  modifications  of  that  precious 
metal  which  gave  appellation  to  the  festival. 
Goblets,  vases,  boxes,  card-receivers,  fancy  bas 
kets,  and  ornaments  for  the  person,  were  inter 
spersed  with  rare  volumes,  bearing  on  their 
covers  inscriptions  in  letters  of  gold.  Two 
groups  of  statuettes,  illustrating  the  Silver  and 
Golden  Weddings,  won  admiration  from  all. 
In  the  first,  the  principal  figures,  though  evi 
dently  past  their  prime,  were  still  symmetrical 
and  beautiful.  The  second  marked  definitely 
the  lapse  of  years,  but  with  that  expression  of 
deepened  tenderness  and  mutual  trust,  that 
touch ingly  enforced  the  hallowed  sentiment  and 
purport  of  heaven-ordained  wedlock. 

The  enjoyment  of  the  younger  part  of  the 
assemblage  had  not  been  overlooked  by  their 
kind  and  thoughtful  entertainers,  who  wisely 


84  PAST     MEKIDIAN. 

kept  alive  their  sympathies  for  them,  as  well  as 
for  older  friends.  To  a  very  large  room  in  the 
upper  story,  tastefully  enwreathed  with  flags 
and  festoons,  the  grand  piano  had  been  con 
veyed,  and  to  its  enlivening  music  many  bright 
and  fair  creatures  were  seen  gracefully  timing 
their  movements. 

Becoming,  yet  not  showy  costumes,  refine 
ment  of  manners,  and  such  an  exuberance  of 
beauty  marked  this  blooming  assemblage,  that 
I  viewed  with  pleasure,  not  without  some  mix 
ture  of  pride,  this  new  generation  in  my  loved 
birthplace. 

Having  the  privilege  of  being  a  guest  for  a 
few  days  previous  to  and  after  this  celebration,  I 
had  an  opportunity  of  witnessing  the  energy  with 
which  the  lady  of  the  mansion  superintended 
and  rendered  personal  aid  in  every  arrange 
ment,  however  laborious  or  minute.  Knowing 
that,  in  addition  to  these  fatigues,  she  had  stood 
up  for  seven  hours  during  the  duties  of  the  re 
ception,  and  had  not  retired  until  past  mid 
night,  I  supposed  that  some  extra  indulgence  in 
sleep  would  be  the  natural  result.  But  what 
wras  my  surprise  to  see  her  up  among  the  first 
in  the  house,  preparing  and  sending  donations 
of  fruit,  flowers,  cakes,  and  other  delicacies,  to 


DOMESTIC      FESTIVALS.  85 

the  sick,  or  those  who  had  unavoidably  been 
withheld  from  the  acceptance  of  her  invitation, 
merging  in  such  sweet  acts  of  benevolence  all 
sensation  of  fatigue. 

This  admirably  managed  celebration  seemed 
one  of  those  few  prominent  events  in  human 
life,  in  which  there  was  nothing  to  regret,  either 
of  omission  or  commission.  Much  happiness 
was  imparted — the  old  and  young  rejoiced  to 
gether — and  separated,  with  higher  respect  for 
the  dignity  and  felicity  that  may  attend  the 
protracted  union  of  loving  and  pious  hearts. 

And  I  have  been  also  favored  with  an  invi 
tation  to  a  diamond  wedding,  which  had  long 
been  my  object  of  ambition. 

It  was  held  in  New  Britain,  one  of  the  most 
pleasant  and  prosperous  townships  of  Connecti 
cut,  on  a  bright,  cheering  day,  near  the  close  of 
autumn.  The  parties  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Eman- 
uel  Russell,  the  same  who  are  mentioned, 
without  name,  in  the  chapter  on  the  "  Privi 
leges  of  Age,"  as  enjoying  and  imparting  so 
much  happiness  in  the  retirement  of  their  sweet 
cottage-home.  This  remarkable  anniversary 
was  celebrated  in  the  neighboring  mansion  of 
their  son,  whose  spacious  apartments  and  exten 
sive  grounds  were  better  adapted  to  the  recep- 


86  PAST     MEEIDIAN. 

tion  of  guests  and  accommodation  of  carriages. 
The  elegant  rooms  and  halls  were  adorned  with 
flowers,  and  tables  heaped  with  tokens  of  re 
gard  for  the  venerated  bridegroom  and  bride. 

Among  the  pictures  upon  the  walls,  wa.s 
one  ingeniously  constructed  by  her  own  hands, 
of  the  hair  of  all  her  descendants,  where  buds, 
leaves,  and  wreaths  were  curiously  and  gracefully 
intertwined.  At  its  base,  were  two  fair,  sym 
metrical  morning-glories,  formed  from  the  snowy 
locks  of  her  husband,  which,  she  said,  with  a 
pleasing  naivete,  were  "  the  most  beautiful  of 
all."  As  they  stood,  side  by  side,  surrounded 
by  children  and  grandchildren,  so  healthful 
and  comely,  it  was  difficult  to  realize  that  three 
score  years  of  conjugal  life,  with  all  their  bur 
dens  and  vicissitudes,  had  indeed  passed  over 
them.  It  was  interesting  to  note  the  occasional 
varying  of  color  on  the  still  fair  cheek  of  the 
aged  matron,  as  the  address  of  the  clergyman 
recounted  the  changes,  of  sorrow  or  of  joy,  with 
which  the  wise  providence  of  God  had  diversi 
fied  their  long  and  loving  union. 

Music,  social  intercourse,  varied  refresh 
ments,  and  a  superbly-spread  dinner  table, 
marked  the  festival,  which,  with  thoughtful  at 
tention  to  the  comfort  and  proprieties  of  ad- 


DOMESTIC     FESTIVALS.  87 

vanced  years,  terminated  as  daylight  departed. 
Ere  the  time  of  separation,  the  following  stan 
zas,  prepared  for  the  occasion,  were  read  aloud, 
in  a  spirited  manner,  by  the  venerable  gentle 
man,  the  centre  of  a  listening  group. 

There's  a  wondrous  spell  of  beauty 

In  the  smooth,  unwrinkled  face, 
The  maiden's  eyes  of  sparkling  ray, 
The  brow  and  cheek  where  ringlets  play, 

And  the  form  of  fairy  grace  ; 
Fond  love,  by  admiration  led, 

Is  bent  to  win  the  prize — 
An  exulting  boon  for  a  young  man,  friends, 

If  not  for  the  old  and  wise. 

But  the  love  that  Time  hath  tested 

By  change  of  joy  and  woe, 
Though  the  lip  may  have  lost  its  ruby  hue, 
And  the  cheek  resigned  the  peach- bloom  dew, 

An'd  the  tresses  turn'd  to  snow, 
Transcends  as  far  the  fleeting  flame 

That  dazzled  and  blinded  the  young, 
As  the  diamond's  lustre  surpasses 

The  charcoal  from  whence  it  sprung. 

The  impressive  manner  and  intonation  of 
the  ancient  reader  will  not  soon  be  forgotten 
by  his  auditors,  who  departed  with  gratitude 
for  the  courtesy  and  delightful  entertainment 
accorded  them. 

Among  his  accomplishments  and  sources  of 


88  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

amusement  for  the  leisure  with  which  serene 
Age  closed  a  life  of  activity,  was  the  power  of 
constructing  delicate  articles  for  use  or  orna 
ment,  nicely  carved  with  the  penknife,  and  ex 
quisitely  polished.  A  curving  ear  trumpet, 
adapted  to  the  enfeebled  hearing  of  his  wife, 
he  invented  and  executed,  saying,  with  a 
touching  tenderness,  that  her  "  wrinkles  were 
dearer  to  him  than  her  roses."  I  was  favored 
by  him  with  the  gift  of  a  night  lamp,  and 
small  writing  apparatus,  which,  with  a  vase  of 
classic  aspect  and  symmetry,  made  by  his  taste 
ful  companion,  adorn  a  small  table,  where  speci 
mens  of  the  skill  and  continued  industry  of  my 
octogenarian  friends  are  exhibited. 

Those  from  his  hand  now  assume  a  mourn 
ful  interest,  from  the  fact  that  he  has  recently 
been  removed  from  us,  full  of  days  and  of 
honors. 

A  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  of  strong 
and  original  mind,  educated  when  honesty  and 
integrity  were  the  pole-stars  of  social  intercourse 
— his  reliability  in  all  the  obligations  and  du 
ties  of  life,  his  fearless  truth,  his  fervent  affec 
tions,  his  earnest  piety,  constituted  a  type  of 
character  that  leaves  behind  strong  remem 
brances,  and  could  never  have  been  more  pre- 


DOMESTIC      FESTIVALS.  89 

cious  as  an  example  than  at  the  present  day. 
It  would  seem  as  if  his  image  and  cherished 
traits  had  been  all  the  more  deeply  riveted,  by 
the  circumstance  of  this  genial  celebration, 
which  we  have  endeavored  to  portray. 

HYMN, 

EOR   THE   SIXTIETH   MARRIAGE   ANNIVERSARY. 

O,  diamonds  from  Golconda's  mine, 
Though  sought  by  prince  and  peer, 

How  poor  ye  are,  compared  with  this, 
That  sheds  its  lustre  here  ; 

That  now,  for  threescore  changeful  years, 

Hath  made  our  home  so  bright, 
And,  shrined  within  our  heart  of  hearts, 

Enriched  us,  day  and  night ; 

That  sent  a  purer  radiance  forth 

If  sorrow  dimmed  our  sky, 
Still  borrowing  brilliancy  from  a  clime 

Where  love  can  never  die  ; 

That  brighter  grows  when  seasons  fade, 

When  summer  fleets  away, 
And  now,  to  winter's  lengthening  eve 

Imparts  a  hallowed  ray. 

O  Thou  !  the  giver  of  this  gem 

Which  on  our  breast  we  wear, 
We  praise  Thee  for  Thy  boundless  grace, 

Thy  kind,  protecting  care. 


90  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

Still  may  Thy  blessing  on  our  race 
Descend,  with  influence  free, 

And  bind  our  children's  children's  souls 
In  pious  trust  to  Thee  ; 

That,  entering  through  the  pearly  gates 
Which  open  wide  for  those 

Who  by  their  Saviour's  precepts  walk, 
And  in  His  faith  repose, 

Our  band,  without  a  missing  link, 

May  in  that  temple  join, 
Where  the  unclouded  Sun  of  Love 

Forevermore  shall  shine. 


CHAPTEE    VIII. 


This  is  your  birfch-day,  friend,  I  trow  : 
May  blessings  o'er  your  pathway  flow, 
And  blessings  in  your  heart  abide, 
Higher  to  swell  its  grateful  tide 
With  all  the  melodies  of  praise 
To  Him  the  Giver  of  your  days  ; 
And  may  this  opening  year,  whose  morn 
Like  an  auspicious  babe  is  born, 
Bring  gladness  in  its  waking  eyes, — 
Give  added  fitness  for  the  skies, — 
And  in  true  goodness,  joy  and  rest, 
Be  of  all  your  life  the  best. 

VERY  likely  the  first  person  who  took  note 
of  a  birthday  was  a  mother.  Who,  like  her, 
would  so  thrillingly  remember  the  introduction 
into  life  of  a  helpless  being,  nourished  by  her 
own  ?  who  every  week  and  month,  by  new  de 
velopments  and  endearments,  had  grown  more 
beautiful  and  more  beloved  ?  Even  if  the  lim 
its  of  the  astronomical  year  had  been  unfixed 


92  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

or  unknown  to  her,  would  she  not  say  at  the 
peeping  forth  of  the  first  grass-blade,  or  at  the 
budding  of  the  rose,  or  the  whitening  of  the 
harvest,  or  the  siftings  of  the  snow-flake,  "  This 
was  the  time  my  baby  came  among  us,"  and 
fold  it  to  her  bosom,  with  warmer  rapture  ? 

Yet,  what  might  have  originated  in  the  im 
pulse  of  nature  and  its  affections,  early  became 
a  custom  among  the  nations.  Heroes  and  con 
querors  celebrated  their  own  advent,  though 
the  down-trodden  people  might  have  yielded 
but  enforced  and  heartless  concurrence.  A  hal 
lowed  Record  teaches  us  that,  more  than  1700 
years  before  the  Christian  era,  one  of  the  Egyp 
tian  monarchs  signalized  his  birthday  by  a  feast 
to  his  servants,  and  the  release  of  prisoners,  as 
well  as  by  an  act  of  despotism.  That  Herod 
took  it  upon  him  to  keep  his  birthday  gor 
geously,  is  memorialized  by  the  shameful  decapi 
tation  of  a  prophet,  and  his  own  consequent  re 
morse.  "  The  king  was  sorry,"  said  the  inspired 
historian. 

In  ancient  Rome,  such  anniversaries  were 
especially  observed.  She  kept  her  own  birth 
day,  April  21st,  753  B.C., — when  she  paid  hon 
ors  to  her  wolf-nursed  father  Romulus.  Julius 
Caesar  says  of  the  Gauls,  that  notwithstanding 


BIRTHDAYS.  93 

their  rude  habitudes,  they  "  kept  birthdays  and 
the  beginnings  of  years." 

The  Roman  aristocracy  regarded  as  memo 
rable  eras,  not  merely  their  nativity,  but  the 
period  of  their  attainment  of  any  distinguished 
honor.  u  For  men  are  not  born  only  on  those 
days  when  they  first  come  into  the  world,1'  says 
one  of  their  authors,  "  but  when  they  arrive  at 
their  chief  greatness." 

Adrian  observed  three  birthdays :  one  of  his 
entrance  into  life,  one  of  his  adoption  by  his 
predecessor,  and  the  other,  his.  assumption  of  the 
imperial  purple. 

Not  merely  emperors  and  nobles,  but  com 
mon  people,  in  private  households,  regarded 
birthdays,  according  to  their  ability,  by  enter 
tainments  to  their  friends,  giving  presents,  and 
exchanging  good  wishes. 

The  classics  give  frequent  allusions  to  such 
customs,  and  to  the  religious  offerings  and  vows 
with  which  they  were  interspersed.  An  inter 
esting  poem,  entitled  "  De  die  natali,"  was 
written  on  the  occasion  of  the  birthday  of  a 
friend,  by  Censorinus,  a  Latin  grammarian  and 
philosopher  in  the  time  of  Alexander  Severus. 
It  treats  of  the  birth  and  life  of  man — of  the 
influence  over  his  fortunes  then  supposed  to  b'* 


94  PAST     MEBIDIAi*. 

exercised  by  the  stars,  and  gives  valuable  in 
formation  respecting  some  of  the  usages  of 
antiquity. 

But,  apart  from  all  historical  prestige,  we 
recommend  that  notice  be  taken  of 'the  birth 
day  of  aged  persons.  A  cheerful  call  at  such  a 
time,  a  note  of  congratulation,  or  the  simplest 
gift,  may  reassure  those  who  may  imagine  them 
selves  forgotten,  and  brighten  the  eye  that  was 
dim  and  downcast  with  dejection. 

It  may  be  alleged  that  some  individuals  of 
a  certain  age,  especially  if  unmarried,  do  not 
like  to  have  their  birthdays  designated.  Very 
well.  Wait  a  while.  There  comes  a  time  when 
people  are  proud  of  their  age.  I  have  known 
hale  and  hearty  old  persons  take  pains  to  prove 
the  seniority  of  only  six  months  over  some  coe 
val.  In  this,  as  in  other  respects,  the  beginning 
and  end  of  life  coalesce.  "  I  am  a  year  older 
than  you,"  says  the  exulting  child  to  his  crest 
fallen  playmate. 

But  look  ye,  my  compeers  !  Let  none  of 
you  speak  a  word  at  any  time  against  Age. 
Do  not  decry  it.  Do  not  discredit  it.  It  is 
treachery  in  our  camp. 

Excuse  this  episode.  I  was  just  about  to 
repeat  the  wish  that  we  should,  as  far  as  practi- 


BIRTHDAYS.  95 

cable,  notice  the  birthdays  of  our  friends  who 
are  advanced  on  life's  journey,  and  by  affection 
ate  reference  to  the  path  in  which  they  have 
faithfully  walked,  and  the  blessed  home  to 
which  they  are  drawing  near,  aid  in  giving 
strength  for  the  remainder  of  their  pilgrim 
age. 

It  is  true  that,  to  prolonged  life,  funeral  an 
niversaries  multiply.  Many  of  our  way-marks 
are  tombstones.  We  may  render  there  the 
offering  of  a  strewn  flower  and  a  heart-felt  tear. 
Yet,  let  the  tribute  be  in  silence,  between  God 
and  our  own  soul.  Why  need  we  sadden  the 
young  with  the  ghosts  of  our  buried  joys  ? 

Still,  these  "  oaks  of  weeping  "  may  yield  a 
salutary  influence.  The  poet  has  well  said,  that 
he  best  "  mourns  the  dead  who  lives  as  they 
desire."  The  return,  both  of  their  nativity  and 
departure,  may  be  made  serviceable  to  the  liv 
ing.  We  may  then  give  new  vigor  to  their  ex 
ample,  continue  their  good  works,  or  complete 
their  unfinished  charities.  I  had  a  friend  who 
consecrated  the  birthday  of  the  loved  ones  who 
had  gone  before,  by  some  labor  in  their  favorite 
field  of  benevolence,  or  in  that  sphere  of  chari 
table  effort,  which  he  knew  they  would  have 
approved,  had  it  been  presented  to  them.  The 


96  PAST     MEEIDIAN. 

heart  of  the  sad  orphan,  or  lonely  widow,  was 
made  glad,  cells  of  sickness  entered,  as  by  an 
angel  of  mercy,  the  page  of  knowledge  spread 
for  ignorance,  and  salvation  on  mission-wings 
sent  to  those  who  sate  in  the  shadow  of 
death. 

Was  not  the  melody  of  such  gratitude  heard 
in  heaven  ?  Was  it  not  a  memorial  meet  for 
glorified  spirits  ?  Touched  it  not  their  pure 
brows  with  a  new  smile,  that  their  entrance 
into  high  Heaven's  bliss  should  have  annual 
record  of  praise  and  thanksgiving  on  earth  ? 

"  Again  returns  the  day,"  says  the  mournful 
mother  to  her  heart,  "  in  which  my  darling,  the 
light  of  my  eyes,  went  down  into  silence.  The 
very  hour  draws  nigh,  when,  for  the  last  time, 
his  eyes  beheld  and  blessed  me,  and  his  hand 
would  fain  have  once  more  clasped  mine.  Ah  ! 
how  faint  was  its  trembling  pressure  :  the  chill 
entered  into  my  soul. 

"  Many  charities  did  he  love :  for  his  sake 
will  I  cherish  them.  He  felt  for  the  toil-worn 
sailors,  l  mounting  up  to  the  heavens,  going 
down  again  to  the  depths,  their  souls  melted 
because  of  trouble.'  I  will  send  a  donation  to 
the  good  men  who  have  combined  to  shelter 
them,  and  teach  them  the  way  to  Heaven. 


BIRTHDAYS.  97 

"  He  pitied  those  for  whose  dim  eyes  the 
beautiful  things  of  creation  were  shut  out. 
The  poor  blind  shall  be  glad  through  him,  this 
day. 

"  How  his  eye  kindled  with  varying  emo 
tion,  as  he  read  in  his  young  boyhood  of  the 
mutiny  in  the  ship  Bounty, — of  the  open  boat 
in  which  Bligh  and  his  fellow-sufferers  doled 
out  so  long  the  bullet's  weight  of  bread,  and 
the  few  water-drops, — and,  of  the  Crusoe  settle 
ment  on  Pitcairn's  island,  from  whence,  as  good 
may  spring  out  of  evil,  now  rises  the  Sabbath 
worship  of  a  little  Christian  community.  A 
token  of  his  remembrance  shall  go  forth  to 
that  lone  oasis  of  the  Pacific. 

"  He  loved  little  children.  When  he  was 
himself  a  child,  he  wished  to  give  every  desti 
tute  one  food,  and  a  garment,  and  a  book.  The 
orphan  institution  shall  be  reminded  through 
my  gifts  of  his  birthday.  And,  if  my  heart 
should  single  out  any  one  from  that  number,  to 
provide  for,  to  watch  over,  and  to  guide  on 
life's  future  way  with  maternal  counsels,  I 
know  it  would  be  pleasing  to  the  departed,  for 
in  such  things  he  ever  took  delight. 

"  He  revered  the  old  and  grey-headed,  how 
ever  poor  and  despised.  I  will  seek  them  out 

5 


98  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

this  day,  in  their  desolate  abodes,  and  put  into 
their  withered  hands  his  alms,  and  speak  such 
kind  words  as  shall  bring  joy  like  a  sunbeam 
over  their  furrowed  brows.  And,  when  they 
would  fain  express  their  gratitude,  I  will  say, 
'  Thank  not  me  !  I  have  done  it  for  his  sake  ! 
— -for  Ms  sake?  •' 

So,  the  mother  was  comforted  for  her  son, 
and  found  that  solace  for  his  birthday  in 
heaven,  which  it  had  never  given  her  while  he 
dwelt  in  tents  of  clay. 

But,  for  us,  who,  having  passed  far  on  our 
journey,  and  lost  many  friends,  are  tempted  to 
linger  long  among  the  graves,  it  is  peculiarly 
desirable  that  cheering  anniversaries  should 
have  free  scope,  and  predominate.  We  had 
rather  shed  a  sunbeam  than  a  midnight  chill. 
Let  us  render  the  birth  of  every  new  year,  and 
each  return  of  the  season  of  our  dear  Redeemer's 
nativity,  a  time  of  joy  to  every  heart  within  the 
sphere  of  our  influence,  not  overlooking  the 
lowliest  servant,  or  the  humblest  child.  It  is 
better  to  be  harmless  finger-posts,  pointing  to 
paths  of  innocent  happiness,  than  flaming 
swords  to  fright  away  the  traveller  from 
Eden. 

Pleasant  mirth,  and  amusing  recollections 


BIETHDAYS.  99 

of  earlier  days,  are  medicinal  to  the  old,  and 
not  uninteresting  to  younger  auditors.  Per 
haps  the  following  original  Valentine,  which 
has  never  before  been  published,  may  serve  to 
illustrate  the  sprightliness  of  mind  that  some 
times  lingers  amid  declining  years. 

'Tis  more  than  threescore  years  and  ten, 

Our  life's  allotted  span, 
Since  first,  in  youthful,  happy  days, 

Our  friendship  true  began. 
'Tis  more  than  threescore  years  and  ten, 

Since,  as  a  joyous  child, 
I  played  with  you  on  Stratford  Green, 

In  many  a  frolic  wild. 

As  I  look  back  upon  those  years, 

Threescore  and  ten  and  five, 
Of  all  the  mates  we  numbered  then, 

But  we  two  are  alive  : 
We  two  of  all  that  happy  band, 

Of  sportive  girls  and  boys, 
Who  wept  together  childish  griefs, 

Or  smiled  o'er  childish  joys. 

And  we're  far  down  the  vale  of  years, 

And  time  is  fleeting  fast, 
Yet,  I  would  be  a  child  once  more, 

And  live  again  the  past. 
Years  seventy-five !  how  thrills  my  heart, 

As  memory  bears  me  back, 
To  tread  again,  with  buoyant  steps, 

My  girlhood's  sunny  track. 


100  PAST     MEKIDIAN. 

But,  in  life's  retrospect,  I  see 

Full  many  a  saddened  scene, 
For  life  has  not  been  all  a  play 

On  dear  old  Stratford  Green ; 
We've  drank,  dear  friend,  its  mingled  cup, 

Of  sorrow  and  of  joy, 
Since  I  was  but  a  sportive  girl, 

You  a  free-hearted  boy. 

"We  both  were  blest  with  many  friends, 

How  few  are  left  alive  ! 
The  dearly  loved  have  passed  away, 

And  yet  we  still  survive : 
We  still  survive,  and  it  may  be 

A  year,  perhaps  a  day, 
When,  like  the  loved  ones  gone  before, 

We  too  shall  pass  away. 

God  grant  that,  in  life's  parting  hour, 

Our  toils  and  labors  done, 
We  may  go  gently  to  our  rest, 

As  sinks  yon  setting  sun. 
When  we  were  young  were  stirring  times, 

The  age  of  iron  men, 
Who  rung  the  trumpet's  warlike  shout, 

From  every  hill  and  glen  : 

Who  stood  for  country  and  for  home, 

For  liberty  and  life, 
'  God  and  the  right !  '  their  battle-cry, 

They  conquered  in  the  strife. 
'Tis  true,  we  were  but  children  then, 

But  we  remember  well, 
How  many  a  heart  was  desolate, 

How  many  a  patriot  fell. 


BIETHDAYS.  101 

For  oft,  the  parent  on  his  knee 

Would  seat  his  lisping  child, 
And  tell  strange  tales  of  battle  scenes, 

And  legends  stern  and  wild  ; 
And  oft  our  childish  cheeks  were  blanch'd, 

And  childish  tears  would  flow, 
As  wonderingly  we  listened  then, 

To  deeds  of  blood  and  woe. 

But  joy  best  suits  the  youthful  heart, 

Its  pulse  is  light  and  free, 
And  so,  as  it  has  ever  been, 

It  was  with  you  and  me. 
And  still  your  boyhood's  sports  went  on, 

My  girlhood's  laughter  rung, 
For,  in  those  days  of  sternest  deeds, 

Both  you  and  I  were  young. 

Do  you  remember,  dear  old  friend, 

The  simple  village  school, 
Where  Mr.  Ayres  taught  little  folks 

To  read  and  write  by  rule  ? 
Children  were  timid,  teachers  stern, 

In  those  our  youthful  days, 
When,  copy-book  in  hand,  we  went, 

Trembling,  to  seek  his  praise. 

And,  when  you  won  the  wished-for  boon 

And  I  stood  sadly  by, 
You  often  caused  a  ray  of  hope 

To  light  my  downcast  eye, 
No  matter  what  the  teacher  said, 

Fresh  from  your  generous  breast, 
Came  to  my  ear  the  flattering  words 

That  mine  was  always  best. 


102  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

Do  you  remember  that  I  sent 

You,  then,  a  Valentine  ? 
Fine  sentiment,  perhaps,  it  lacked, 

But  love  breathed  in  each  line, 
It  seems  but  yesterday,  these  five 

And  seventy  years  ago  ; 
You  then  had  owned  no  other  belle, 

And  I  no  other  beau. 

I,  in  return,  a  ribbon  got, 

Bright  with  true  love's  own  hue, 
And  much  it  pleased  my  girlish  taste, 

For  'twas  the  bonniest  blue, 
But,  childhood  quickly  passed  away, 

And  hearts  were  lost  and  won, 
And  you  soon  owned  another  love, 

And  I,  another  John. 

With  him,  I  journeyed  many  a  year, 

Happy  and  blest  were  we, 
He  lived  to  see  his  bairnies'  bairns 

Prattling  upon  his  knee  ; 
We  climbed  '  thegither  up  the  hill,' 

But,  down  alone  I  go, 
And  soon,  '  thegither  at  its  foot,' 

With  him  I'll  lay  me  low. 

Yet,  not  alone,  for  loving  hearts, 

Are  left  in  children  dear, 
Who,  in  my  downward  path  of  life, 

Smooth  each  declining  year, 
And  oft,  to  glad  my  aged  eye, 

My  children's  children  come, 
And  merry  laughter  rings  again, 

In  my  old  happy  home. 


BIETHDAYS.  103 

For  you,  sole  mate  of  earliest  days, 

I've  cast  a  backward  eye, 
Along  tlie  changing  track  of  time, 

As  swift  it  hurried  by  ; 
And  forward  may  we  dare  to  look  ? 

Another  opening  year 
Hath  dawned  upon  us,  and  its  close 

May  scarcely  find  us  here. 

One  may  be  taken,  one  be  left, 

It  may  be  I,  or  you, 
Still,  while  we  live,  dear,  early  friend, 

Shall  live  our  friendship  true  ; 
My  years  now  number  eighty-eight, 

And  yours  are  eighty-nine, 
Yet,  once  more,  as  in  days  of  yore, 

Accept  my  Valentine. 


CHAPTEK   IX. 


fatriotir 

"  The  brave,  great  spirits  who  went  down  like  suns, 
And  left  upon  the  mountain-tops  of  death 
A  light  that  made  them  lovely." 

A.  SMITH. 

WHAT  chronology  is  to  history,  are  dates  to 
the  memories  of  actual  life.  They  give  adhe 
siveness  and  force  to  impressions  that  might 
else  be  desultory,  and  perishable. 

What  mathematics  are  to  the  mind,  they 
may  also  be  to  the  lieart,  adding  stability  and 
power  to  its  better  sentiments  and  affections. 
Sweet  and  salutary  is  it  to  review  the  varied 
events  of  God's  providence,  with  regard  to  our 
selves  and  others,  on  the  return  of  their  respec 
tive  anniversaries.  By  thus  deepening  the 
imagery,  and  refreshing  the  colors  on  our  mov 
ing  diorama,  we  may  renew  a  grateful  sense  of 


PATEIOTIC      RECOLLECTIONS.          105 

His  goodness,  perhaps  make  more  permanent 
the  benefits  of  His  discipline. 

National  anniversaries  give  fervor  to  the  pa 
triotism  of  a  people.  I  have  seen  the  whole 
heart  of  England  stirred  up  on  the  fifth  of  No 
vember,  from  the  white-robed  priest,  and  the 
chanting  choir  in  the  cathedrals,  to  the  merry 
urchins  let  loose  from  school,  perchance,  more 
inclined  to  laud  than  to  denounce  the  "  Gun 
powder  plot,"  that  had  given  them  a  holiday. 
Yet  a  truer  fellowship  and  stronger  nationality 
sprang  up  from  this  general  sympathy  of  gratu- 
lation. 

The  birth  of  our  own  country,  so  peculiar  in 
itself,  and  so  fraught  with  blessings  to  her  chil 
dren,  should  be  warmly  and  reverently  regard 
ed.  That  event  might  be  so  embalmed  and 
brought  forward  year  by  year,  as  to  perpetuate 
the  blessings  which  first  flowed  from  it. 

The  fourth  of  July,  ITT 6,  is  a  date  that 
every  American  remembers,  from  the  snows  of 
Minnesota  to  the  Floridian  orange-groves — from 
the  sounding  shores  of  the  Atlantic,  to  the  new 
found  realm  of  gold.  A  wanderer  perchance, 
on  Chimborazo,  or  in  the  Eternal  City,  or 
among  the  tropic  isles,  or  daring,  with  frost- 
bound  sails,  the  ices  of  the  Arctic  zone,  he 
5* 


106  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

bares  his  head  at  his  country's  birth-day, 
while  his  heart  quickens  with  their  proud 
joy,  who  of  old  exclaimed,  "  I  am  a  Roman 
citizen" 

An  aged  friend,  whose  birth  was  on  the 
consecrated  fourth  of  July,  1776,  never  failed 
till  the  close  of  life  to  rejoice  in  that  circum 
stance,  as  a  heritage  of  glory.  That  this  date 
should  have  been  marked  by  the  transition  to 
another  world,  of  two  of  the  venerable  signers 
of  our  Declaration  of  Independence,  each  digni 
fied  by  the  highest  office  in  our  country's  power 
to  bestow,  adds  a  mystic  sacredness  to  its  his 
toric  interest. 

John  Adams,  whose  far-reaching  mind  saw 
the  incipient  rights  of  his  native  land,  when  in 
the  chrysalis  of  her  colonial  state,  she  herself 
understood  them  not, — who  with  boldness  and 
enthusiasm  unfolded  and  demanded  them, — to 
whom,  next  to  Washington,  she  first  accorded 
the  honor  of  her  chief  magistracy,  lay  at  the  age 
of  ninety,  on  his  dying  couch,  at  his  fair,  pater 
nal  residence  in  Quincy,  (Mass.,)  where  he  first 
drew  breath,  surrounded  by  objects  of  his  fond 
est  love. 

It  was  a  holy  sight 
To  look  upon  that  venerable  man, 


PATRIOTIC     RECOLLECTIONS.       107 

Remembering  all  his  honors,  all  his  toils, 
And  knowing  that  his  earth-receding  grasp, 
Was  on  the  anchor  of  eternal  life. 

It  was  the  fourth  of  July,  1826.  Raising 
his  head  from  the  pillow,  the  last  brightness 
gathering  in  his  eye,  he  said,  "  It  is  the  glorious 
Fourth.  God  bless  it.  God  bless  you  all.  This 
is  a  great  and  glorious  day." 

And  so,  he  resigned  his  spirit. 

On  the  same  day,  Thomas  Jefferson,  his 
friend  and  compeer  in  toils  and  counsels  for  a 
nation's  liberty,  the  third  President  of  these 
United  States,  at  his  Virginian  home  of  Monti- 
cello,  which  he  had  beautified  by  taste  and  hos 
pitality,  received,  while  still  lightly  bearing  the 
burden  of  eighty-three  years,  that  guest  who 
cometh  but  once  to  the  children  of  men.  It 
was  his  fearless  pen,  rich  in  varied  literature, 
that  drafted  our  Declaration  of  Independence  : 

Forth  from  that  pen  of  might, 
Burst  the  immortal  scroll, 
Which  gave  a  living  soul 

To  shapeless  clay ; 
Which  said,  "  Let  there  be  light," 
And  the  old  startled  realms  beheld  a  new-born  day. 

John  Adams,  among  his  latest  words,  had 
said,  "  Jefferson  survives"  Yet  almost  at  the 


108  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

same  hour  of  the  day  that  completed  the  fiftieth 
year  of  that  nation's  life,  the  beating  of  whose 
infant  pulse  they  had  counted  and  registered, 
both  those  great  men  expired.  As  Solon 
shrouded  his  head  'and  departed,  that  the  mys 
tery  of  his  absence  might  add  efficacy  to  the 
laws  he  had  established  for  Athens,  they  gave 
to  their  country's  first  jubilee,  that  last  solemn 
seal  which  death  sets  on  love  and  patriotism. 

The  twenty-second  of  February,  the  birth 
day  of  Washington,  should  be  regarded  with 
demonstrations  of  national  enthusiasm  and 
gratitude.  Especially  should  they  who  stand 
nearest  in  proximity  to  those  tempestuous  times 
which  his  wisdom  helped  to  change  into  the 
broad  sunlight  of  freedom,  speak  of  the  virtues 
of  that  king  of  men,  to  all  in  the  forming  period 
of  life.  Not  as  a  warrior  would  we  chiefly  com 
mend  him ;  that  was  indeed  a  prominent  exi 
gence  to  which  he  was  called  by  Heaven,  and 
in  which  he  conducted  nobly,  but  we  press  on 
the  imitation  of  those  who  are  to  come  after  us, 
his  disinterested  patriotism,  his  patience  in  ad 
versity,  his  unswerving  truth,  his  wisdom  in 
the  greatest  matters,  his  just  attention  to  the 
smallest,  the  punctuality  of  his  dealings  with  all 
men,  the  godlike  dignity,  the  serene,  unostenta- 


PATEIOTIC      RECOLLECTIONS.       109 

tious  piety,  which  made  a  more  perfect  balance 
of  character  than  has  appertained  to  any  hero 
in  any  age. 

Another  approach  to  a  remarkable  coinci 
dence  of  dates,  is  the  death  of  the  venerable 
John  Quincy  Adams,  on  the  completion  of  half 
a  century  from  that  of  the  Pater  Patrise,"  and 
also  within  a  single  day  of  the  anniversary  of 
his  birth.  He  was  himself  the  sixth  President 
of  the  United  States,  and  the  son  of  the  second 
who  had  sustained  that  honor.  Though  he  had 
surpassed  the  age  of  fourscore,  he  still  kept  his 
seat  among  the  representatives  of  our  nation,  at 
Washington,  watching  with  keen  eye  and  unim 
paired  intellect,  whatever  concerned  her  vitality 
or  renown.  It  was  on  the  morning  of  February 
21st,  1848,  that  he  appeared  in  the  lofty  halls 
of  Congress,  with  his  usual  vigor,  and  gave,  in 
a  clear,  emphatic  voice,  his  vote  on  the  opening 
question. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  cry,  "  Mr.  Adams  is 
dying  ! "  Throngs  rushed  to  the  side  of  that 
"  old  man  eloquent,"  and  bore  him  fainting  to  a 
sofa  in  an  inner  apartment.  Partially  recover 
ing  from  insensibility,  he  said  slowly,  "  This  is 
all  of  earth.  I  am  content" — Repeating  the  as 
surance  of  his  calmness  and  preparation,  he  re- 


110  PAST     MEEIDIAN. 

lapsed  into  silent  repose,  until  the  evening  of 
the  twenty-third,  when  the  country  whom  he 
had  so  long  served,  mourned  at  the  tidings  that 
he  was  no  more. 

Thus  fell  nobly  at  his  post,  and  in  the  man 
ner  that  his  patriot  heart  might  have  chosen, 
this  man  of  stainless  integrity,  of  universal  ac 
quirements,  of  diplomatic  training  from  early 
boyhood, — and  one  of  the  few  in  whom  preco 
city  of  talent  continues  to  advance  through  the 
whole  of  life,  and  to  ripen  amid  the  frosts  of 


age. 


But  not  in  the  splendor  of  the  fame  of 
statesmen  or  chieftains,  would  we  lose  the 
memory  of  others,  who,  in  humbler  stations, 
gathered  firmly  around  the  endangered  cradle 
of  our  common  country.  Some  of  these  were 
our  own  sires.  By  the  hearth-stone,  they  have 
told  our  listening  infancy  of  toils  and  perils, 
bravely  and  cheerfully  borne.  It  becomes  us 
to  impress  them  on  our  children,  who,  amid  the 
luxurious  indulgences  of  a  great  and  prosperous 
land,  can  scarcely  conceive  the  hardships  and 
dangers  by  which  its  freedom  was  wrought 
out. 

Standing  as  we  do,  literally  as  well  as  poli 
tically,  on  the  "  isthmus  of  a  middle  state,"  it 


PATRIOTIC      RECOLLECTIONS.       Ill 

seems  incumbent  on  us  to  deliver  unimpaired 
to  a  future  age,  such  records  as  the  Past  may 
have  entrusted  to  our  care.  The  liberty  which 
was  enkindled  upon  our  own  altars,  amid  blast 
and  tempest,  should  be  guarded  as  a  vestal 
flame.  The  voice  of  the  actors  in  those  "  times 
that  tried  men's  souls,"  speaks  through  us. 
Let  us  strive  that  it  may  enkindle  pure  love 
in  the  hearts  of  the  young,  to  that  native  land, 
which,  though  it  has  indeed  gained  a  proud 
seat  among  the  nations,  has  still  the  same  need 
of  protection  from  their  virtues,  that  it  once  had 
from  their  fathers'  swords. 

The  patriotism  which  we  would  fain  cherish, 
by  keeping  in  life  and  freshness  the  events  of 
our  earlier  history,  struck  deep  and  time  root  in 
the  hearts  of  the  softer  sex,  amid  the  storms  of 
revolution.  The  privations  which  they  content 
edly  and  bravely  endured,  should  not  be  for 
gotten.  In  many  a  lonely  home,  from  whence 
the  father  was  long  sundered  by  a  soldier's 
destiny,  Woman  stifled  the  sigh  of  her  own 
hardships,  that  she  might,  by  her  firmness, 
breathe  new  strength  into  her  husband's  heart, 
and  be 

"  An  undergoing  spirit,  to  bear  up 
Against  whate'er  ensued." 


112  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

How  often,  during  that  long  war,  did  the 
mother  labor  to  perform  to  her  little  ones,  both 
the  father's  duties,  and  her  own,  having  no  ref 
uge  in  her  desolate  estate,  and  unresting  anxie 
ty,  save  the  Hearer  of  Prayer. 

I  have  often  reflected  on  a  simple  narration, 
once  given  me  by  a  good  and  hoary-headed 
man,  the  late  Kev.  Dr.  David  Smith,  of  Dur 
ham,  Conn.,  who  with  unimpaired  intellect,  and 
cheerful  piety,  completed  the  period  of  ninety- 
four  years. 

"  My  father  was  in  the  army,  during  the  whole  eight  years 
of  the  Revolutionary  war,  at  first  as  a  common  soldier,  after 
ward  as  an  officer.  My  mother  had  the  sole  charge  of  us,  four 
little  ones.  Our  house  was  a  poor  one,  and  far  from  neighbors. 
I  have  a  keen  remembrance  of  the  terrible  cold  of  some  of  those 
winters.  The  snow  lay  so  deep  and  long,  that  it  was  difficult  to  cut 
or  draw  fuel  from  the  woods,  or  to  get  our  corn  to  mill,  when  we 
had  any.  My  mother  was  the  possessor  of  a  coffee  mill.  In 
that  she  ground  wheat,  and  made  coarse  bread  which  we  ate 
and  were  thankful.  It  was  not  always,  that  we  could  be  allow 
ed  as  much  even  of  this,  as  our  keen  appetites  craved.  Many  is 
the  time  that  we  have  gone  to  bed  with  only  a  drink  of  water 
for  our  supper,  in  which  a  little  molasses  had  been  mingled. 
We  patiently  received  it,  for  we  knew  our  mother  did  as  well 
for  us  as  she  could,  and  hoped  to  have  something  better  in  the 
morning.  She  was  never  heard  to  repine,  and  young  as  we 
were,  we  tried  to  make  her  lovely  spirit  and  heavenly  trust,  our 
example.  When  my  father  was  permitted  to  come  home,  his 
stay  was  short,  and  he  had  not  much  to  leave  us,  for  the  pay  of 
those  who  had  achieved  our  liberties,  was  slight,  and  irregularly 


PATRIOTIC      RECOLLECTIONS.       113 

rendered.  Yet  when  he  went,  my  mother  ever  bade  him  farewell 
with  a  cheerful  face,  and  not  to  be  anxious  about  his  children, 
for  she  would  watch  over  them  night  and  day,  and  God  would 
take  care  of  the  families  of  those  who  went  forth  to  defend  the 
righteous  cause  of  their  country.  Sometimes  we  wondered  that 
she  did  not  mention  the  cold  weather,  or  our  short  meals,  or 
her  hard  work,  that  we  little  ones  might  be  clothed  and  fed, 
and  taught.  But  she  would  not  weaken  his  hands,  or  sadden 
his  heart,  for  she  said  a  soldier's  lot  was  harder  than  all.  We 
saw  that  she  never  complained,  but  always  kept  in  her  heart  a 
sweet  hope,  like  a  well  of  living  water.  Every  night  ere  we 
slept,  and  every  morning  when  we  arose,  we  lifted  our  little 
hands  for  God's  blessing  on  our  absent  father  and  our  endan 
gered  country." 

Yet  the  spirit  of  patriotism  has  not  deserted 
our  sex.  It  has  only  changed  its  form,  with  the 
aspect  of  the  times.  No  one  can  doubt  this, 
who  beholds  the  energy  and  zeal  that  pervade 
every  rank,  prompting  to  benevolent  effort  for 
the  comfort  of  suffering  and  wounded  soldiers. 
Those  Sanitary  Fairs  which  spring  up  spon 
taneously  in  so  many  cities  of  our  land,  to 
which  the  accomplished  lady  brings  the  exqui 
site  creations  of  her  taste,  and  the  ancient  one, 
the  production  of  her  knitting-needles,  and  the 
little  child  the  fragments  of  calico  she  has 
diligently  gathered  and  united,  reveal  a  quick 
ening  impulse  which  binds  stranger-hearts  in  a 
hallowed  sisterhood,  and  sheds  lustre  over  the 
sadness  and  misery  of  civil  war. 


114  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

There  is  also  a  modification  of  patriotism, 
which  without  seeking  notoriety  is  admirable, 
whose  object  is  to  elevate  or  beautify  the  re 
gion  where  it  dwells.  Of  this,  the  late  Hon. 
James  Hil] house  of  New-Haven,  was  an  illus 
trious  example.  With  his  professional  labors 
as  a  lawyer,  with  the  honors  of  a  statesman, 
having  held  for  sixteen  years  his  seat  in  the 
Senate  of  the  United  States,  and  being  the 
oldest  member  of  that  body,  at  the  period  of 
his  resignation,  and  also,  with  the  onerous 
business  of  Commissioner  of  the  School  Fund 
of  Connecticut,  whose  financial  affairs  evidently 
prospered  under  his  vigilant  superintendence,  and 
with  fidelity  to  other  important  public  trusts, 
he  possessed  the  skill  to  combine,  as  the  Duke 
of  Sully  had  done  some  two  hundred  years 
before,  the  pleasure  of  enriching  the  landscape 
with  noble  trees  planted  by  his  own  hand. 
The  city  of  his  residence,  which  in  summer, 
and  especially  during  the  leafy  month  of  June, 
is  one  of  the  most  picturesque  spots  in  New 
England,  illustrates  in  her  numerous  and  grace 
fully  waving  shades,  his  philanthropic  spirit,  and 
persevering  industry.  To  the  borders  of  four 
score,  his  earnest  habits,  and  endearing  virtues 
extended,  and  those  who  were  familiar  with 


PATEIOTIC     EECOLLECTIONS.         115 

the  tones  of  his  voice,  and  the  smile  that  lighted 
up  to  the  last,  his  dark  expressive  eye,  will  not 
forget  them. 

The  City  of  Elms  is  his  debtor  to-day  ; 

She  owes  him  a  statue,  and  should  not  delay, 

In  deep,  sculptured  bronze  her  memorial  to  pay. 


I  would  like  to  speak  of  another  form  of 
patriotism,  not  frequently  exhibited,  which 
turns  with  filial  tenderness  to  the  scenery  of 
its  birth.  Of  this,  there  .is  among  us  a  con 
spicuous  instance.  Asa  Fitch,  Esq.,  having 
spent  the  early  part  of  his  life  in  Marseilles, 
France,  returned  about  thirty  years  since,  a  rich 
banker,  and  rejecting  the  alluring  solicitations 
of  metropolitan  cities,  returned  to  the  secluded 
village  in  Connecticut,  where  his  departed 
parents  had  resided,  and  where  he  was  himself 
born.  There  was  nothing  peculiarly  attractive 
in  the  locality  to  one  accustomed  to  the  excite 
ments  of  French  society,  but  his  affectionate  heart 
lingered  around  the  farm  where  his  father,  a 
respected  officer  of  the  Revolution,  had  reared 
a  family,  and  where  his  sightless  mother  had 
laid  her  hands  on  his  head  and  blessed  him. 
Thither  he  bore  the  energies  of  a  discriminat- 


116  PAST      MEEIDIAN. 

ing  and  original  mind.  Rocks  and  stones  dis 
appeared  as  by  magic,  and  gave  place  to  smooth, 
velvet  turf.  The  beautiful  things  of  Nature 
sprang  up.  Vegetable  wealth  flourished,  and 
in  his  green-houses  and  graperies  the  rich  plants 
and  fruits  of  tropical  climes  found  themselves 
at  home.  He  erected  of  solid  masonry,  beside 
the  edifices  upon  his  own  immediate  premises, 
a  church,  a  parsonage,  a  school-house,  and  a 
large  manufactory  to  employ  the  surrounding 
people,  which  when  destroyed  by  conflagration, 
he  patiently  and  liberally  rebuilt.  In  his  habits 
he  is  strictly  systematic,  rising  early  and  break 
fasting  throughout  the  year  by  candle-light, 
and  going  immediately  forth  to  superintend  in 
person  the  operatives  upon  his  domain,  which 
by  repeated  purchases,  now  comprises  thou 
sands  of  acres.  He  leads  an  abstemious  life, 
amidst  elegant  and  luxurious  hospitalities,  and 
by  this  prudence,  united  to  constant  exercise  in 
the  open  air,  has  succeeded  in  fortifying  a  con 
stitution  naturally  delicate,  until  in  his  seventy- 
eighth  year,  it  resists  and  surmounts  the  intru 
sions  of  disease  with  singular  elasticity.  Such 
a  course  of  exertion  and  philanthropy  so  long 
pursued,  without  the  prompting  of  gain,  or  am 
bition  for  applause,  constitutes  an  eminent  and 


PATEIOTIC      RECOLLECTIONS. 


unique  example,  which  it  is  interesting  to  con 
template. 

The  principal  events  in  the  history  of  our 
native  land,  arranged  according  to  their  dates, 
would  be  profitable  to  us,  both  as  a  review,  and 
as  an  exercise  of  memory.  Thus  might  we  with 
more  variety  and  freshness,  impart  to  the  young, 
that  which  they  so  well  gather  from  books, 
details  of  the  self-sacrifice,  the  courage  and 
the  piety  which  God  recompensed  with  the 
life  and  liberty  of  a  nation.  Thus  might  we, 
perchance,  lift  a  barrier,  slight,  yet  not  power 
less,  against  venality  and  luxury  and  ambition, 
those  banes  of  a  republic,  arrogantly  polluting 
the  pure  sources  of  patriotic  health. 

The  diligent  formation,  and  regular  refer 
ence  to  a  daily  list  of  dates  founded  on  uni 
versal  history,  is  a  salutary  habit.  Every  day 
in  the  year,  has,  doubtless,  more  than  one  feat 
ure  of  distinction,  "  if  men  would  carefully  distil 
it  out."  Though  not  an  historic  fact  of  impor 
tance,  it  might  probably  bear  the  record  of  the 
birth  or  death  of  some  individual  whose  biog 
raphy  it  would  be  pleasant  to  review,  or  im 
press  on  others.  For  if  an  ancient  writer  has 
truly  said,  that  "  the  moral  beauty  on  which 
we  fix  our  eyes,  presses  its  own  form  upon  our 


118  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

hearts,  making  them  fair  and  lovely  with  the 
qualities  that  they  behold,"  the  lives  of  the 
great  and  good  must  be  a  profitable  contempla 
tion  for  plastic  youth. 

Hints  derived  from  our  daily  list  of  anniver 
saries,  with  some  tact  in  avoiding  prolixity, 
might  be  rendered  valuable  to  the  young  who 
surround  us.  Let  us  hazard  any  aspersion  of 
pedantry  that  might  chance  to  flow  from  it. 
Ridicule  of  that  sort  should  be  pointless  to  us. 
If  through  adduced  illustration  or  example,  we 
may  be  made  the  medium  of  implanting  some 
great  truth  or  holy  precept,  which  shall  bear 
fruit  for  our  country  after  we  are  dead,  let  us 
neither  shrink  nor  loiter ;  for  the  time  is  short. 

The  people  who  have  past  their  prime,  have 
reason  to  rejoice  that  so  many  of  their  own  im 
mediate  band  have  been  enabled  to  leave  such 
enduring  traces  on  the  sands  of  time.  If  the 
satisfactions  of  rural  life,  the  transmutation  of 
the  unsightly  mould  into  fruits  and  flowers,  are 
so  soothing  and  salutary,  is  it  not  a  privilege 
to  plant  in  the  region  where  we  were  ourselves 
reared,  trees,  whose  "  leaves  are  for  the  healing 
of  the  nations  ? "  If  the  founding  of  those 
time-honored  edifices, — the  pyramid,  the  obelisk, 
and  the  temple,  on  which  the  storms  of  ages 


PATEIOTIC     EECOLLECTIONS.       119 

have  beaten  in  vain,  are  inquired  for  with 
earnestness,  should  not  higher  honor  be  theirs, 
who  have  been  enabled  to  erect  for  liberty 
and  law,  columns  on  whose  Corinthian  capital, 
lingers  the  smile  of  heaven,  as  a  never-setting 
sun  ? 


CHAPTEE    X. 


If  a  diamond  was  ours,  at  the  opening  of  day, 
Because  it  is  eve,  shall  we  cast  it  away  ? 

ACCOMPLISHMENTS  for  old  people?  Yes. 
And  why  not  ?  It  would  seena  as  if  the 
world  thought  they  had  no  right  to  them. 
Whereas,  having  been  obliged  to  part  with 
many  personal  attractions,  there  is  the  more 
need  that  they  should  take  pains  to  make 
themselves  agreeable. 

Every  other  period  of  life  has  its  peculiar 
prospect  of  improvement,  and  its  prescribed 
modes  of  promoting  it.  What  care  is  expend 
ed  to  teach  childhood  the  theory  of  language. 
Through  ignorance,  grammatical  error,  and  sol 
ecism,  it  steadily  advances,  nothing  daunted,  or 
discouraged.  What  efforts  are  put  forth  to  induce 
the  young  to  make  the  most  of  any  attainment 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS.  121 

they  may  possess,  and  strenuously  to  acquire 
those  in  which  they  are  deficient.  And  this  is 
right.  Maturity  has  its  beautiful  occupations, 
its  hallowed  responsibilities,  and  an  array  of 
resistless  motives  to  excel  in  each. 

Nothing  seems  expected  of  the  aged  but  to 
put  themselves  decently  away  into  some  dark 
corner,  and  complete  the  climax  of  the  great 
poet,  "  second  childishness,  and  mere  oblivion." 
Let's  see  about  that.  Why  not  adopt  the  sug 
gestion  of  another  poet,  to  "  live  while  we  live  ?  " 

In  looking  about  for  some  relief,  or  loophole 
though  which  to  escape,  forgive  me,  if  I  hint 
what  at  first  view  might  seem  trifling,  the  pres 
ervation  of  a  cheerful  countenance,  and  a  neat, 
becoming  costume.  Inattention  to  these  points 
is  prone  to  mark  those  who  feel  themselves  of 
little  consequence  in  society,  and  the  effect  is 
to  render  them  still  more  disregarded.  "  A 
merry  countenance,  said  Jeremy  Taylor,  "  is  one 
of  those  good  things  which  no  enemy  or  perse 
cutor  can  take  away  from  me." 

On  the  subject  of  apparel,  whose  import 
ance,  ladies  may,  at  least,  be  ready  to  admit, 
Madam  Hancock,  the  dignified  consort  of  the 
President  of  our  First  Congress,  used  to  say, 
u  I  can  never  forgive  any  person  in  good 
6 


122  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

society  for  not  being  well  dressed,  or  for  think- 
ing  of  themselves  after  they  are  dressed."  To  a 
very  advanced  age,  she  was  herself  a  fine  illus 
tration  of  her  theory. 

The  stimulant  of  example,  also,  as  well  as 
of  precept,  is  strenuously  brought  to  bear  upon 
the  young,  in  their  different  departments  of 
study  and  accomplishment.  For  instance,  in 
the  science  of  music,  requiring  the  daily,  labor 
ious  practice  of  years,  emulation  is  continually 
exerted.  More  than  one  fair  aspirant  has 
cheered  her  long  session  at  the  piano,  by  re 
calling  what  was  said  of  the  captivating  Ann 
Boleyn,  that  "  when  she  composed  her  hands 
to  play,  and  her  voice  to  sing,  it  was  joined 
with  such  sweetness  of  countenance  that  three 
harmonies  concurred." 

What  a  striking  picture  !  Though  waning 
years  may  preclude  from  this  combination  of 
three  harmonies,  yet  be  it  known  to  all  whom 
it  may  concern,  that  there  have  been  old  people 
who  retained,  and  even  made  progress  in  what 
the  world  styles  accomplishments.  I  have  had 
the  honor  of  being  acquainted  with  ladies,  who 
after  the  age  of  eighty,  excelled  in  the  various 
uses  of  the  needle,  executing  embroidery  by 
the  evening  lamp,  and  sitting  so  erect,  that 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS.  123 

younger  persons,  more  addicted  to  languid  po 
sitions,  asserted  that  "  it  made  their  shoulders 
ache  to  look  at  them/7  I  am  in  possession  of 
various  articles,  both  useful  and  ornamental, 
wrought  by  the  hands  of  such  venerable  friends, 
and  doubly  precious  for  their  sakes. 

The  widow  of  our  great  statesman,  Alexan 
der  Hamilton,  with  many  other  feminine  accom 
plishments,  exhibited  to  a  great  age,  the  ex 
quisite  uses  of  the  needle,  and  continued  to  be 
admired  for  the  ease  and  courtesy  with  which 
she  entertained  her  numerous  guests,  during  a 
life  which  comprised  almost  a  century. 

Mrs.  Madison  was  distinguished,  not  only 
while  in  the  presidential  mansion,  where  she 
won  the  heart  of  every  visitant,  but  throughout 
a  long  life,  by  one  of  the  most  kindly  and 
queenly  natures  that  ever  belonged  to  woman. 
So  fully  developed  and  unchangeably  sustained 
were  her  social  powers,  and  brilliance  of  con 
versation,  that  after  the  age  of  eighty,  I  have 
often  heard  her  in  the  large  assemblages  at  the 
court  of  our  nation,  address  to  every  person 
some  appropriate  remark,  or  touch  some  train 
of  familiar  thought,  that  would  make  the  em 
barrassed  at  ease,  or  the  happy,  happier.  She 
was  unwilling,  even  for  hours,  to  indulge  in 


124  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

the  repose  of  a  seat,  lest  some  one  should  escape 
her  notice,  whom  she  might  cheer,  or  gratify. 
Especially  when  children  were  present,  she  never 
forgot  or  overlooked  the  youngest,  but  with  ad 
mirable  tact  had  something  to  say,  which  they 
might  take  with  them  as  a  pleasant  memory 
onward  to  future  years. 

In  the  high  and  rare  attainment  of  elegant 
reading,  I  have  never  known  any  lady  so  con 
spicuous  to  advanced  age,  as  the  mother  of  the 
late  Bishop  Wainwright.  Her  distinct  articu 
lation  and  perfect  emphasis  made  listening 
a  pleasure,  and  drew  out  the  full  beauty  of 
the  thought  which  they  rendered  vocal.  To 
her  also,  belongs  the  high  praise  of  having 
formed,  in  early  boyhood,  the  habits  and  style 
of  elocution  of  her  distinguished  and  lament 
ed  son. 

Many  precious  pictures  have  I,  in  that 
niche  of  memory's  gallery,  where  the  hoar 
frost  sparkles.  One  of  these,  I  must  indulge 
myself  in  transferring.  It  is  entwined  with 
the  scenery  of  my  own  native  place.  I  see 
again,  a  tall,  dignified  lady,  whose  elastic  step 
age  failed  to  chain.  High  intellect  was  hers, 

O  O  i 

the  stronger  for  being  self-taught,  and  a  place 
among  the  aristocracy,  that  she  might  the  more 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS.  125 

plainly  show  the  beauty  of  gentle  manners  and 
a  lowly  heart.  In  the  varieties  of  conversation 
which,  without  pedantry  or  display,  unveil  ex 
tensive  learning  and  suggestive  thought,  I  have 
never  known  any  of  my  own  sex  her  superior ; 
I  was  about  to  have  said,  her  equal.  Fabrics 
of  use  and  of  taste,  she  wrought  and  ornament 
ed,  and  with  her  delicate  scissors,  imitated  the 
beauties  and  wonders  of  the  animal  and  floral 
world.  Children,  she  especially  charmed  by 
these  efforts  of  her  skill  as  well  as  by  her  great 
descriptive  powers,  ever  keeping  in  view  their 
instruction  as  well  as  pleasure.  Clustering 
around,  they  listened,  holding  their  breath, 
lest  they  should  lose  a  word.  She  also  de 
lighted  them  with  the  sweetness  of  her  ancient 

o 

and  sacred  songs,  for  to  the  verge  of  fourscore 
and  ten,  her  musical  powers  remained,  a  source 
of  wondering  gratification  to  all  around.  Even 
now,  those  swan-like  melodies  that  enchanted 
my  earliest  years,  revisit  me,  rich,  clear,  and 
softened  by  the  lapse  of  years,  as  if  borne  over 
untroubled  waters. 

The  time  would  fail  me  to  tell  of  her  excel 
lent  knowledge  in  all  that  appertained  to  the 
domestic  sphere ;  as  it  also  would  to  mention 
other  ladies  in  my  own  New  England,  who  in 


126  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

the  delicate  elements  of  that  great  feminine 
attainment,  good  housekeeping,  yielded  neither 
energy  nor  skill  to  the  frost  of  seventy  years,  but 
dexterously  continued  to  touch  every  clock-work 
spring,  on  which  the  order  and  comfort  of  a 
blessed  home  depend. 

It  would  be  quite  impossible  here  to  enume 
rate  those  of  the  other  sex  whom  it  has  been 
my  privilege  to  know,  who  in  their  various  de 
partments  and  professions,  derived  added  dig 
nity  from  age ;  merchants,  whose  mental  acute- 
ness  time  seemed  to  have  refined ;  physicians, 
whose  large  experience  gave  such  confidence  to 
the  sick  as  to  prove  an  element  of  healing; 
jurists,  whose  time-tried  judgments,  were  as 
beaten  gold ;  divines,  whose  silver  locks  were 
a  talisman  to  the  hearts  of  their  hearers ; 
statesmen,  whose  eloquence  was  never  more 
fervid  or  vigorous  than  when  their  sun  went 
down. 

A  gentleman,  whose  period  of  collegiate  ed 
ucation  had  been  cut  short  by  the  absorbing 
toils  of  a  life  at  sea,  having  found  in  advanced 
age  a  haven  of  repose,  resumed  with  zeal,  the 
perusal  of  the  classics,  remarking,  that  after 
fourscore  he  had  been  led  decidedly  to  prefer 
them  to  his  native  tongue,  which  was  "  so  easy 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS.  127 

as  not  to  keep  the  mind  awake."  I  have  often 
found  him  deeply  engaged  over  the  pages  of 
Homer  or  Cicero,  in  the  original,  his  eye 
brightening  at  every  gem  of  genius,  and  his 
florid  complexion  pure  with  temperance,  re 
minding  one  of  Miss  Mitford's  description  of 
the  beauty  of  her  own  venerable  father. 

The  efforts  that  sustain  social  intercourse, 
and  the  attractions  that  adorn  it,  are  in  our  Re 
public,  too  soon  laid  aside.  Of  these,  the  gray- 
haired  seem  in  haste  to  absolve  themselves,  as 
of  a  sin.  In  France,  they  are  kept  in  constant 
and  prosperous  exercise.  The  idea  of  being 
superannuated  seems  not  there  to  have  entered 
the  mind  of  the  people.  The  aged  are  received 
in  mixed  society,  as  marked  favorites,  and  bear 
their  part  with  an  inextinguishable  naivete. 
Many  instances  of  this,  I  beheld,  with  admir 
ing  wonder.  One  evening,  in  particular  I 
recollect  being  interested  in  watching  Isabey, 
the  celebrated  miniature  painter,  of  Paris,  who 
with  hair  like  the  driven  snow,  glided  through 
the  mazes  of  the  dance,  at  a  state  ball  given 
by  the  elegant  Marchioness  Lavalette,  the  agility 
of  his  movements  not  at  all  impaired  by  more 
than  eighty  years,  nor  the  graceful  courtesy 
with  which  he  delighted  to  introduce  and 


128  PAST     MEEIDIAN. 

bring  into  notice,  his  fair,  young  wile,  while 
frequent  allusions  to  their  home  proved  how 
affectionately  their  hearts  turned  thither  amid 
all  the  gaieties  of  fashion. 

Yet  it  is  not  in  mercurial  France  alone,  that 
men  "  frisk  beneath  the  burden  of  fourscore." 
The  philosophic  Socrates,  though  not  indeed, 
at  quite  so  ripe  an  age,  used  to  dance,  and  play 
upon  the  lyre ;  one,  to  preserve  his  physical 
vigor,  and  the  other  to  tune  and  elevate  his 
mind  with  cheerfulness. 

Macklin,  after  he  had  numbered  a  full  cen 
tury,  appeared  on  the  stage,  and  in  the  charac 
ter  of  the  Jew,  Shylock,  held  his  audience  in 
absorbed  attention.  He  also  successfully  occu 
pied  himself  in  revising  and  remodeling  his 
own  dramatic  compositions. 

It  will  be  said  that  these  instances  are  ex 
ceptions,  rather  than  examples  that  we  may 
hope  to  reach.  Of  some,  this  is  true  ;  but  from 
others  we  derive  encouragement  and  hope.  If 
at  the  age  of  eighty,  Cato  thought  proper  to  go 
to  school  to  learn  Greek,  why  should  we  not 
consider  ourselves  scholars,  as  long  as  aught 
remains  to  be  learned  ?  Yes,  life  is  ever  a 
school,  both  in  its  discipline  and  its  aspirations. 
Let  us  take  our  places  in  that  class  who  both 


ACCOMPLISHMENTS.  129 

learn  and  teach.  We  will  speak  of  the  mani 
fold  goodness  of  God,  which  we  have  so  long 
tested,  and  strike  that  keystone  of  praise,  whose 
melody  will  be  perfected  in  Heaven  : — 

"  Yet  oh  !  eternity's  too  short, 
To  utter  all  His  praise." 

Among  the  highest  accomplishments  of  age, 
are  its  dispositions.  It  should  daily  cultivate 
the  spirit  to  admire  what  is  beautiful,  to  love 
what  is  good,  and  to  be  lenient  to  the  faults  of 
that  infirm  nature  of  which  all  are  partakers. 
As  sensual  pleasures  lose  their  hold,  the  char 
acter  should  become  more  sublimated.  While 
we  would  avoid  that  fixedness  which  repels 
new  impressions,  and  resists  improvements  as 
innovation,  let  us  seek  the  accomplishment  of 
an  active,  unslumbering  benevolence. 

Dear  friends,  whom  I  love  better  for  the 
linked  sympathies  of  many  years,  do  some 
thing  to  be  remembered  when  you  are  gone. 
Let  your  words,  either  spoken  or  written,  bring 
forth  fruit  when  you  are  dead.  Endow  a 
school.  Open  a  fountain.  Plant  a  tree.  Put 
a  good  book  in  a  cottage,  or  a  public  library. 
It  was  a  beautiful  reply  of  a  white-haired  man, 
to  the  question  why  he  should  trouble  himself 


130  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

to  be  setting  out  a  pear  tree,  who  could 
scarcely  hope  to  taste  its  fruits,  "  Have  I 
all  my  life  long,  eaten  from  trees  that  the 
dead  have  planted,  and  shall  not  the  living 
eat  of  mine  ? " 

Let  us  hold  to  the  spirit  of  progress  and 
the  capabilities  of  improvement  of  this  im 
mortal  nature,  as  long  as  it  sojourns  in  the 
flesh.  "  There  is  no  reason,"  said  a  clear- 
minded  philosopher,  "  why  we  should  not 
make  advances,  as  long  as  we  are  in  a  state  of 
probation." 

If  our  pilgrimage  is  almost  finished,  does 
that  create  a  need  to  forfeit  our  admiration  or 
relax  our  pursuit  of  "  whatsoever  is  fair,  lovely, 
or  of  good  report  ?"  "  Excelsior  "  may  as  well 
be  our  motto  at  the  close,  as  at  the  commence 
ment  of  life's  journey. 

If  we  are,  indeed,  so  near  the  Better  Land 
as  to  catch  the  whispers  of  its  camp,  hear  we 
not,  in  a  great  voice,  as  of  many  harpers,  the 
inspiring  strain,  "  Forgetting  the  things  that 
are  behind,  reach  forth  unto  those  that  are  be 
fore  ! "  and  is  there  not  in  our  own  hearts,  an 
answering  chant,  as  of  antiphonal  music,  "  Not 
as  though  we  had  attained,  or  were  already 
perfect.  But  we  follow  after." 


CHAPTEK    XI. 


f  ribtUjjes  of 


Say  ye,  who  through  the  round  of  eighty  years 
Have  proved  life's  joys  and  sorrows,  hopes  and  fears, 
Say,  is  there  not  enough  to  meekness  given, 
Of  light  from  reason's  lamp,  and  light  from  heaven, 
To  teach  us  where  to  follow,  what  to  shun, 
Or  bow  the  head  and  say,  God's  righteous  will  be  done  ?  " 

MRS.  BARBAULD. 


THE  motto  here  selected  was  composed  by 
the  venerable  author  after  she  had  passed  the 
bounds  of  fourscore.  In  her  well-regulated 
mind  there  was  no  disposition  to  disparage  the 
comforts  that  linger  around  the  later  stages  of 
human  life.  Why  should  this  disposition  ever 
be  tolerated  ?  Many  enjoyments  have,  indeed, 
run  their  course  ;  their  lease  having  expired  by 
limitation  of  time.  Yet  others  remain,  the 
birthright  of  advanced  years,  which  it  is  both 
unjust  and  unwise,  not  to  appreciate. 


132  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  privileges  of  age. 
Has  it,  in  reality,  any  inherent  honors,  emolu 
ments,  or  immunities,  to  justify  such  an  assump 
tion  ? 

Originally,  it  was  in  possession  of  a  charter, 
sanctioned  by  Divine  authority,  demanding 
reverence  for  the  hoary  head,  and  for  the 
counsel  of  those  to  whom  years  had  given  wis 
dom.  Modern  times  have  indeed  modified  this 
charter.  Our  own  republic  has  been  pro 
nounced  by  observant  foreigners  deficient  in 
the  sentiment  of  respect.  Still,  among  well- 
trained  and  noble  natures,  there  will  be  ever 
a  willingness  to  honor  those  who  have  long 
and  well  borne  the  burdens  of  time,  and  a 
veneration  for  the  "  hoary  head,  if  found  in  the 
way  of  righteousness." 

The  inquirer  if  age  has  any  emolument, 
may  be  reminded  of  the  wealth  of  experience. 
Are  not  the  whole  beautiful,  ever-moving 
world  of  the  young,  in  poverty  for  the  want 
of  it  ?  searching,  trying,  tasting,  snatching  at 
garlands  and  grasping  thorns,  chasing  meteors, 
embarking  on  fathomless  tides,  and  in  danger 
of  being  swallowed  up  by  quicksands  ?  The 
aged,  through  toil  and  hazard,  through  the 
miseries  of  mistake,  or  the  pains  of  penitence, 


THE      PRIVILEGES      OF     AGE.          133 

have  won  it.  Safe  in  their  casket,  are  gems 
polished  by  long  attrition,  and  gold  dust,  well 
washed,  perchance,  in  fountains  of  tears." 

"  Knowledge  comes,  but  wisdom  lingers,  for  it  bears  a  laden 

breast, 
Still,  with  sage  experience,  moving  toward  the  brightness  of  the 

west." 

Has  age  immunities  ?  Its  sources  of  reve 
nue  seem  to  be  negative  rather  than  positive. 
It  has  probably  dissolved  partnership  with  per 
sonal  vanity.  And  was  not  that  a  losing  con 
cern  ?  There  remains  no  consciousness  of 
beauty,  no  feverish  hope  of  admiration,  no 
undue  excitement  of  competition,  no  bewilder 
ment  from  flattery,  to  put  out  of  sight  higher 
purposes,,  or  exclude  more  rational  pleasures. 
The  consequent  gain,  both  of  leisure  and  quiet, 
must  be  great.  Has  it  not  also  a  respite  from 
the  toils  of  money  getting,  from  that  science  of 
accumulation  which  is  but  practical  slavery? 
It  is  surely  time.  Having  borne  the  yoke  for 
many  years,  rising  early,  and  late  taking  rest, 
and  eating  the  bread  of  carefulness,  it  would 
be  desirable  to  taste  the  sweets  of  such  enfran 
chisement,  while  yet  "  the  lamp  holds  out  to 
burn." 

In  age,  is  not  the  over-mastering  force  of  the 


134  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

passions  broken  ?  Is  it  as  irascible  at  opposi 
tion  as  when  the  current  of  life  rushed  fiercely 
on,  battling  all  obstacles  with  the  impetuosity 
of  a  cataract  ?  Is  it  still  led  in  blind  and  deep 
captivity,  as  of  yore,  by 

"  Love,  Hope,  and  Joy,  fair  Pleasure's  syren  train, 
Hate,  Fear,  and  Grief,  the  family  of  Pain  ? " 

If  a  more  serene  and  self-sustained  philoso 
phy  is  a  natural  concomitant  of  age,  is  it  not  a 
privilege  for  which  to  give  thanks  ? 

Yet  not  in  exemptions  alone,  do  the  advan 
tages  of  the  aged  consist.  Have  they  not  more 
aid,  and  stronger  promptings  to  disinterested 
ness,  than  in  the  earlier  stages  of  their  journey  ? 
The  young  acquire  accomplishments,  that  they 
may  be  distinguished  or  admired ;  the  old 
strive  to  continue  agreeable,  that  they  may 
please  or  edify  others.  The  man  of  mature 
years  toils  to  achieve  wealth,  as  a  means  of 
influence ;  the  study  of  the  old  is,  or  should 
be,  how  to  dispense  it.  Their  business  is  to 
shower  back  upon  the  earth  the  gifts  she  has 
bestowed,  having  no  further  expectation  from 
her,  save  of  a  couch  in  her  bosom. 

Since  those  who  have  the  slightest  admix 
ture  of  self,  escape  countless  discomforts  by 


THE      PEIVILEGES      OF      AGE.         135 

which  others  are  annoyed,  the  aged  are  assisted 
by  their  condition  to  find  that  happiness  which 
is  more  independent  of  "  things  that  perish  in 
the  using." 

"  That  which,  they  are,  they  are, 
Made  weak  by  time,  perchance,  but  strong  in  will, 
To  strive,  to  seek,  to  grasp,  and  not  to  yield." 

\ 

If,  to  compensate  for  the  visible  losses  of 
time,  there  are  correspondent  gains,  less  obvi 
ous,  but  still  secure,  it  concerns  all  to  under 
stand  their  amount,  that  they  may  be  able  to 
balance  the  books,  ere  the  Master  calleth  for 
an  account  of  their  stewardship.  An  ancient 
classic  has  well  remarked,  that  Nature,  after 
having  wisely  distributed  to  all  the  preceding 
portions  of  life  their  peculiar  and  proper  en 
joyments,  can  scarcely  be  supposed  to  have 
neglected,  like  an  indolent  poet,  the  last  act  of 
the  human  drama,  and  left  it  destitute  of  suit 
able  advantages. 

The  God  of  nature  has  decreed  to  every 
season  of  life  its  inherent  happiness,  and  fit 
ness  for  the  end  it  was  intended  to  serve.  In 
spring,  fair  blossoms  glow  even  among  the 
grass  blades,  and  in  summer,  the  fruit-laden 
boughs  are  clothed  with  beauty.  Vigorous 
autumn  comes  with  his  reaping  hook,  and  win- 


136  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

try  age  await eth  the  Lord  of  the  harvest.  Not 
unmindful  of  its  privileges,  or  reluctant  to  re« 
store  the  mysterious  gift  of  life,  should  it  watch 
for  his  coming. 

Age  should  clothe  itself  with  love,  to  resist 
the  loneliness  of  its  lot.  Yet  does  it  not  some 
times  cherish  a  morbid  and  mistaken  conscious 
ness  that  it  no  longer  retains  the  power  of  con 
ciliating  affection  ?  It  has  been  beautifully 
said  that  "  the  heart  is  as  warm  after  life's 
day's-work  is  over,  as  when  it  began  ;  after  the 
harness  of  manhood  is  cast  off,  as  before  it  was 
put  on.  The  love  generally  felt  for  genial  and 
kindly  old  persons,  with  their  unselfish  sympa 
thies,  their  tried  judgment,  and  their  half- 
mournful  tenderness  toward  those  they  are 
soon  to  leave,  has  not  been  enough  remem 
bered  in  poetry.  Their  calm,  reliable  affection, 
is  like  the  Indian  summer  of  friendship." 

The  aged,  especially  if  their  conquest  of 
self  is  imperfect,  are  prone  to  underrate  the 
advantages  that  remain.  Their  minds  linger 
among  depressing  subjects,  repining  for  what 
"  time's  effacing  fingers "  will  never  restore. 
Far  better  wrould  it  be  to  muse  on  their  re 
maining  privileges,  to  recount  them,  and  to 
rejoice  in  them.  Many  instances  have  I  wit- 


THE     PRIVILEGES      OF     AGE. 


nessed,  both  of  this  spirit,  and  the  want  of  it, 
which  left  enduring  impressions. 

I  well  remember  an  ancient  dwelling,  shel 
tered  by  lofty,  umbrageous  trees,  and  with  all 
the  appendages  of  rural  comfort.  A  fair  pros 
pect  of  hill  and  dale,  and  broad  river,  and  dis 
tant  spire,  cheered  the  vine-covered  piazzas, 
through  whose  loop-holes,  with  the  subdued 
cry  of  the  steam-borne  cars,  the  world's  great 
Babel  made  a  dash  at  the  picture  without 
coming  too  near.  Traits  of  agricultural  life, 
divested  of  its  rude  and  sordid  toils,  were 
pleasantly  visible.  A  smooth-coated  and  sym 
metrical  cow  ruminated  over  her  clover  meal. 
A  faithful  horse,  submissive  to  the  gentlest 
rein,  protruded  his  honest  face  through  the 
barn  window.  A  few  brooding  mothers  were 
busy  with  the  nurture  of  their  chickens,  while 
the  proud  father  of  the  flock  told  with  a 
clarion  voice  his  happiness.  There  were  trees, 
whose  summer  fruits  were  richly  swelling,  and 
bushes  of  ripening  berries,  and  gardens  of  choice 
vegetables.  Those  who  from  the  hot  and  dusty 
city  came  to  breathe  the  pure  air  of  this  sylvan 
retreat,  took  note  of  these  "  creature  comforts," 
and  thought  they  added  beauty  to  the  land 
scape. 


138  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

Within  the  abode,  fair  pictures  and  books 
of  no  mean  literature  adorned  the  parlors ;  in 
the  carpeted  kitchen  ticked  the  stately  old 
family  clock,  while  the  bright  dishes  stood  in 
orderly  array  upon  the  speckless  shelves.  Visit 
ants  could  not  but  admire  that  union  of  taste 
and  education  which  makes  rural  life  beautiful. 
It  might  seem  almost  as  an  Elysium,  where  care 
would  delight  to  repose,  or  philosophy  to  pur 
sue  her  researches  without  interruption.  But 
to  any  such  remark,  the  excellent  owner  was 
wont  mournfully  to  reply : 

"  Here  are  only  two  old  people  together. 
Our  children  are  married  and  gone.  Some  of 
them  are  dead.  We  cannot  be  expected  to 
have  much  enjoyment." 

Oh,  dear  friends,  but  it  is  expected  that  you 
should.  Your  very  statement  of  the  premises 
is  an  admission  of  peculiar  sources  of  comfort. 

"  Two  old  people  together?  Whose  sympa 
thies  can  be  so  perfect  ?  And  is  not  sympathy 
a  source  of  happiness  ?  Side  by  side  ye  have 
journeyed  through  joys  and  sorrows.  You 
have  stood  by  the  grave's  brink,  when  it  swal 
lowed  up  your  idols,  and  the  iron  that  entered 
into  your  souls  was  fused  as  a  living  link,  that 
time  might  never  destroy.  Under  the  cloud 


THE      PKIVILEGES      OF      AGE.          139 

and  through  the  sea,  you  have  walked  hand  in 
hand,  heart  to  heart.  What  subjects  of  com 
munion  must  you  have,  with  which  no  other 
human  being  could  intermeddle. 

"  Two  old  people"  Would  your  experience 
be  so  rich  and  profound,  if  you  were  not  old  ? 
or  your  congeniality  so  entire,  if  one  was  old, 
and  the  other  young  ?  What  a  blessing  that 
you  can  say,  there  are  two  of  us.  Can  you 
realize  the  loneliness  of  soul  that  must  gather 
around  the  words,  u  left  alone  !  "  HOWT  many 
of  memory 7s  cherished  pictures  must  then  be 
viewed  through  blinding  tears  ?  how  feelingly 
the  expression  of  the  poet  adopted,  "  'tis  the 
survivor  dies  ? " 

"  Our  children  are  married  and  gone" 
Would  you  have  it  otherwise  ?  Was  it  not 
fitting  for  them  to  comply  with  the  institution 
of  their  Creator  ?  Is  it  not  better  than  if  they 
were  all  at  home,  without  congenial  employ 
ment,  pining  in  disappointed  hope,  or  solitude 
of  the  heart  ?  Married  and  gone  !  To  teach 
in  other  homes  the  virtues  they  have  learned 
from  you.  Perchance,  in  newer  settlements 
to  diffuse  the  energy  of  right  habits,  and  the 
high  influence  of  pure  principles.  Gone !  to 
learn  the  luxury  of  life's  most  intense  affec- 


140  PAST      MEK1DIAX. 

tions,  and  wisely  to  train  their  own  young 
blossoms,  for  time  and  for  eternity.  Praise 
God  that  it  is  so. 

"  Some  are  dead"  They  have  gone  a  little 
before.  They  have  showrn  you  the  way 
through  that  gate  where  all  the  living  must 
pass.  Will  not  their  voice  of  welcome 
be  sweet  in  the  skies  ?  Dream  ye  not 
sometimes  that  ye  hear  the  echo  of  their 
harp-strings  ?  Is  not  your  eternal  home 
brought  nearer,  and  made  dearer  by  them  ? 
Praise  God. 

Several  cottage  homes,  have  I  been  lately 
favored  in  seeing,  where  age  delightfully  re 
poses.  Two  of  them  especially  dwell  in  mem 
ory,  as  pictures  not  easily  forgotten.  One,  in  a 
retired  part  of  the  most  admired  city  of  Connec 
ticut,  united  every  appliance  of  comfort,  with 
elegance  and  refinement.  There  dwelt  the 
saintly  sage  of  more  than  ninety,  looking  calm 
ly  back  upon  a  wrell-spent  life,  enlivened  by 
the  animation  and  cheerfulness  of  his  compan 
ion,  who,  though  only  a  few  years  younger,  re 
tained  in  a  remarkable  degree,  the  attractions 
of  manner  and  person,  which  had  fascinated  his 
youth.  So  near  their  cultured  grounds,  that 
intercourse  through  the  windows  might  be  per- 


THE     PRIVILEGES      OF     AGE.          141 

mitted,  rose  like  a  tutelary  genius,  the  loftier 
mansion  of  their  children,  attentive  to  every 
wish  and  movement  of  the  blessed  parents,  and 
anxious  to  accord  the  same  protection  and 
happiness  which  they  had  themselves  received 
when  life  was  new.  This  union  of  filial  piety, 
with  the  calm  enjoyment  of  honored  age,  gave 
a  charm  to  this  beautiful  cottage,  which  made 
the  heart  thankful  for  the  privilege  of  behold 
ing  it. 

The  other,  in  one  of  our  most  thriving 
rural  townships,  was  bright  with  the  roses  of 
June.  The  aged  pair  who  occupied  it  were 
considerably  past  fourscore,  and  happy  to  resign 
the  more  exciting  cares  of  a  city  residence,  for 
the  quiet  of  the  simple  abode  and  beautiful 
garden,  which  their  own  skill  and  health  ena 
bled  them  to  cultivate.  Not  ambitious  were 
they  of  wealth,  but  rich  in  the  recollections  of 
active  and  virtuous  years,  social,  courteous, 
religiously  satisfied  with  this  fair  world  and 
its  Maker. 

Methought  the  mildness  of  such  a  sunset 
was  more  beautiful  than  the  uncertain  bril 
liance  of  life's  morning.  One  feels  better  for 
such  a  visit,  and  for  the  sight  of  such  people. 
Looking  upon  the  inhabitants  of  these  two 


142  PAST     MEEIDIAN. 

peaceful  abodes,  I  was  reminded  of  that  fine 
passage  from  Mountford  : 

"  Old  age  is  a  public  good.  It  is  indeed.  Don't  feel  sad 
because  you  are  old.  Whenever  you  are  walking,  no  one  ever 
opens  a  gate  for  you  to  pass  through,  no  one  ever  honors  you 
with  any  kind  of  help,  without  being  himself  the  better  for 
what  he  does; — for  fellow-feeling  with  the  aged  ripens  the 
soul." 

I  once  knew  an  aged  couple,  who  for  more 
than  sixty  years  had  dwelt  in  one  home,  and 
with  one  heart.  Wealth  was  not  theirs,  nor 
the  appliances  of  luxury,  yet  the  plain  house  in 
which  they  had  so  long  lived,  was  their  own. 
Humble  in  every  appointment,  that  they  might 
keep  free  from  debt,  they  were  respected  by 
people  in  the  highest  positions,  for  it  was  felt 
that  they  set  a  right  example  in  all  things. 
Every  little  gift,  or  token  of  remembrance 
from  friends,  and  all  who  knew  them  were 
friends,  awakened  the  fresh  warmth  of  grati 
tude.  Though  their  portion  of  this  world's 
goods  was  small,  benevolence,  being  inherent 
in  their  nature,  found  frequent  expression. 
Always  they  had  by  them  some  book  of  slight 
expense,  but  of  intrinsic  value,  to  be  given  as  a 
guide  to  the  young,  the  ignorant  or  the  tempted. 
Cordials  also,  and  simple  medicines  for  debility, 


THE     PRIVILEGES      OF     AGE.          143 

or  incipient  disease,  they  distributed  to  the 
poor,  for  they  were  skilful  in  extracting  the 
spirit  of  health  from  herbs,  and  a  part  of  the 
garden  cultivated  by  their  own  hands,  was 
a  dispensary.  Kind,  loving  words  had  they 
for  all,  the  fulness  of  their  heart's  content,  brim 
ming  over  in  bright  drops,  to  refresh  those 
around. 

That  venerable  old  man,  and  vigorous,  his 
temples  slightly  silvered,  when  more  than  four 
score  years  had  visited  them,  how  freely  flowed 
forth  the  melody  of  his  leading  voice,  amid  the 
sacred  strains  of  public  worship.  His  favorite 
tunes  of  Mear  and  Old  Hundred,  wedded  to 
these  simp]y  sublime  words, 

"  While  shepherds  watched  their  flocks  by  night," 

and 

"  Praise  God,  from  whom  all  blessings  flow," 

seem  even  now  to  fall  sweetly,  as  they  did  upon 
my  childish  ear.  These,  and  similar  ancient 
harmonies,  mingled  with  the  devout  prayers 
that  morning  and  evening  hallowed  his  home 
and  its  comforts  ;  she,  the  loved  partner  of  his 
days,  being  often  sole  auditor.  Thus,  in  one 
censer,  rose  the  praise,  which  every  day  seemed 
to  deepen.  God's  goodness  palled  not  on  their 


144  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

spirits,  because  it  had  been  long  continued. 
They  rejoiced  that  it  was  "  new  every  morning, 
and  fresh  every  moment." 

By  the  clear,  wood-fire  in  winter,  sate  the 
aged  wife,  with  serene  brow,  skilfully  busy  in 
preparation  or  repair  of  garments,  as  perfect 
neatness  and  economy  dictated ;  while  by  the 
evening  lamp,  her  bright  knitting-needles 
moved  with  quickened  zeal,  as  she  remem 
bered  the  poor  child,  or  wasted  invalid,  in 
some  cold  apartment,  for  whose  feet  they  were 
to  furnish  a  substantial  covering. 

In  the  later  years  of  life,  their  childless  abode 
was  cheered  by  the  presence  of  a  young  orphan 
relative.  She  grew  under  their  shadow  with 
great  delight,  conforming  her  pliant  heart  to 
their  wishes,  and  to  the  pattern  of  their  godly 
simplicity.  When  they  were  seated  together, 
she  read  to  them  such  books  as  they  chose,  and 
treasured  their  Christian  counsel.  Her  voice 
in  the  morning  was  as  the  carol  of  the  lark,  and 
they  seemed  to  live  again  a  new  life  in  her  young 
life.  She  was  to  them  "  like  the  rose  of  Sharon 
and  the  lily  of  the  valley." 

Love  for  the  sweet  helplessness  of  un 
folding  years,  increased  with  their  own  ad 
vancing  age.  Little  children,  who  know  by 


THE     PEIVILEGES      OF      AGE.          145 

instinct  where  love  is,  would  draw  near  them, 
and  stand  lamb-like  at  their  side.  Thus  they 
passed  on,  until  more  than  ninety  years  had 
been  numbered  to  them.  They  were  not  weary 
of  themselves,  or  of  each  other,  or  of  this  beauti 
ful  world.  Neither  was  Time  weary  of  bring 
ing  them,  letter  by  letter,  the  full  alphabet  of  a 
serene  happiness,  and  when  extreme  age  added 
the  Omega,  they  were  well  educated  to  begin 
the  bliss  of  Eternity. 


CHAPTER    XII. 


anft     ntellectual 


"  Their  age  was  like  a  second  winter, 
Frosty,  but  kindly." 

SHAKSPEARE. 


opinion  has  been  expressed  that  literary 
labors,  or  habitual  excursions  into  the  regions 
of  imagination,  are  adverse  to  the  continuance 
of  health,  or  even  the  integrity  of  intellect. 
Grave  charges,  truly  !  and  examples  to  the  con 
trary  may  be  easily  adduced. 

Premature  death  and  mental  declension  are 
confined  to  no  profession  or  condition  of  life. 
Too  early,  or  undue  stress  laid  on  the  organs 
of  the  brain,  is  doubtless  fraught  with  disastrous 
consequences.  Still,  their  constant,  and  even 
severe  exercise,  may  comport  both  with  physi 
cal  welfare  and  longevity. 

It  is  indeed,  true,  that  Swift  "  expired  a 


ETC.  147 

driveller  and  a  show,"  but  not  until  lie  had 
passed  seven  years  beyond  the  span  allotted  to 
human  life ;  and  the  amiable  author  of  the 
"Task,"  closed  his  pilgrimage  in  a  ray  less 
cloud  at  sixty-six ;  and  Walter  Scott  sank  at 
sixty-one,  under  toils  too  ambitiously  pursued, 
for  the  safe  union  of  flesh  with  spirit ;  and 
Southey,  whose  reckless  industry  precluded 
needful  rest,  subsided  ere  sixty-eight,  into  syn 
cope  and  the  shadow  of  darkness ;  and  Henry 
Kirke  White  faded  at  twenty-one,  in  the  fresh 
blossom  of  his  young  renown ;  and  Byron, 
at  thirty-six,  rent  the  fiery  armor  of  genius 
and  of  passion,  and  fled  from  the  conflict  of 
life/ 

Yet  Goethe,  unimpaired  by  the  strong  ex 
citements  of  imagination,  saw  his  eighty-second 
winter ;  and  the  sententious  architect  of  the 
'  Night  Thoughts,'  numbered  fourscore  and 
four;  and  Voltaire,  at  the  same  period,  was 
still  in  love  with  the  vanity  of  fame  ;  and  Colley 
Gibber,  for  twenty-seven  years  poet  laureate  of 
England,  reached  eighty-six  -;  and  Corneille  con 
tinued  to  enjoy  his  laurels  till  seventy -eight ; 
and  Crabbe,  at  an  equal  age,  resigned  the  pen 
which  had  sketched  with  daguerreotype  minute 
ness  the  passing  scene.  Joseph  Warton,  until 


148  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

his  seventy-ninth  year,  made  his  mental  riches 
and  cheerful  piety  sources  of  delight  to  all 
around  him ;  Charles  Wesley,  on  the  verge  of 
eighty,  called  his  wife  to  his  dying  pillow,  and 
with  an  inexpressible  smile,  dictated  his  last 
metrical  effusion ;  and  Klopstock,  the  bard  of 
the  "  Messiah,"  continued  until  the  same  period 
to  cheer  and  delight  his  Mends.  Isaac  Watts 
laid  down  his  consecrated  harp  at  seventy-four ; 
and  our  own  Trumbull,  the  author  of  "  McFin- 
gal,"  preserved  till  eighty-two,  the  bright,  origi 
nal  intellect,  whose  strains  had  animated  both 
camp  and  cottage.  His  friend,  the  distinguished 
Dwight,  author  of  "  Greenfield  Hill,"  and  for 
many  years  President  of  Yale  College,  died  at 
sixty-four ;  and  Joel  Barlow,  ten  years  younger, 
found  a  foreign  grave ;  and  Percival,  another 
of  our  Connecticut  poets,  laid  down  his  varied 
learning  and  hermit  life  at  sixty-one.  Philip 
Freneau  continued  his  varied  labors  until  his 
eightieth  year ;  and  Roger  Wolcott,  better 
known  as  a  statesman,  than  as  the  writer  of  a 
volume  of  poems,  published  in  colonial  times, 
lived  to  be  eighty -nine.  The  illustrious  Metas- 
tasio  detained  the  admiring  ear  of  Italy  until 
eighty-four ;  and  Milton,  at  sixty-six,  opened 
his  long-eclipsed  eyes  on  "  cloudless  light  se- 


LONGEVITY,      ETC.  149 

rene."  Who,  that  now  thrills,  while  reading 
the  sublime  strains  of  "  Paradise  Lost,"  can 
forbear  to  smile  at  the  criticism  of  one  of  its 
cotemporaries,  the  celebrated  Waller  ?  "  The 
old  blind  schoolmaster,  John  Milton,  hath  pub 
lished  a  tedious  poem  on  the  fall  of  man ;  if 
its  length  be  not  considered  as  merit,  it  hath 
no  other." 

Mason  was  seventy-two,  ere  the  "  holy 
earth,"  where  "  dead  Maria  "  slumbered,  admit 
ted  him  to  share  her  repose ;  and  the  tender 
Petrarch,  and  the  brave  old  John  Dryden,  told 
out  fully  their  seventy  years  ;  and  the  ingenious 
La  Fontaine,  seventy-four;  while  Fontenelle, 
whose  powers  of  sight  and  hearing  extended 
their  ministrations  to  the  unusual  term  of 
ninety-six  years,  lacked  only  the  revolution  of 
a  few  moons  to  complete  his  entire  century ; 
and  Sadi,  the  poet  of  Persia,  is  said  to  have 
passed  twenty  years  beyond  it. 

Those  masters  of  the  Grecian  lyre,  Anacre- 
on,  the  sweet  Sophocles,  and  the  fiery-souled 
Pindar,  felt  no  frost  of  intellect,  but  were  trans 
planted  as  evergreens,  in  the  winter  of  four 
score  ;  at  the  same  advanced  period,  Words 
worth,  in  our  own  times,  continued  to  mingle 
the  music  of  his  lay  with  the  murmur  of  Ry- 


150  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

dal's  falling  water ;  and  Joanna  Baillie,  to  fold 
around  her  the  robe  of  tragic  power,  enjoying 
until  her  ninetieth  year,  the  friendship  of  the 
good,  and  the  fruits  of  a  fair  renown ;  while 
Clotilde  de  Surville,  the  poetess  of  Languedoc, 
who  flourished  two  or  three  centuries  earlier, 
saw  the  autumnal  vintage  almost  a  hundred 
times.  Montgomery,  the  religious  poet,  so  long 
a  cherished  guest  amid  the  romantic  scenery 
of  Sheffield,  enjoyed  life  with  an  unimpaired 
zest  till  eighty-two  ;  and  Rogers,  long  the  most 
venerable  poet  in  Europe,  departed  at  the  age 
of  ninety-four.  His  first  gift  to  the  world,  was 
the  "  Pleasures  of  Memory ; "  his  last  effusion, 
an  epithalamium,  to  a  friend.  It  was  composed, 
or  rather  uttered,  at  Brighton,  to  whose  salu 
brious  waters  he  had  resorted,  for  a  short  sea 
son,  in  his  extreme  age. 

"  Forth  to  the  Altar,— and  with  her  thou  lov'st, 
With  her  who  longs  to  strew  thy  path  with  flowers, 
Nor  lose  the  blessed  privilege  to  give 
Birth  to  a  race  immortal  as  your  own, 
That  trained  by  you,  may  make  a  heaven  on  earth, 
And  tread  the  path  that  leads  from  earth  to  heaven." 

So  much  for  the  poets,  who  have  been  ac 
cused  of  burning  out  the  wheels  of  life,  in  the 
flames  of  passion,  and  the  vagaries  of  imagina- 


LONGEVITY,      ETC.  151 

tion ;  though  according  to  the  theory  of  one  of 
their  own  number,  "  their  thoughts  make  rich 
the  blood  of  the  world." 

"  The  solace  of  song,"  says  Southey,  "  cer 
tainly  mitigates  the  sufferings  of  the  wounded 
spirit.  I  have  sorrowed  deeply,  and  found  com 
fort  in  thus  easing  my  mind ;  though  much  of 
what  I  wrote  at  such  times,  I  have  never  let 
the  world  see." 

True  Poetry  has  surely  an  affinity  with  the 
higher  harmonies  of  our  being, — with  religion 
and  its  joys.  Gathering  the  beautiful  from  na 
ture,  and  soaring  into  the  realm  of  fancy  for 
what  reality  withholds,  she  feeds  her  children 
on  angels'  food.  She  looks  to  the  stars,  and 
hears  melodies  that  are  above  their  courses. 

Of  wits  and  humorists,  Cervantes  fed  on  his 
own  mirthful  conceptions,  to  the  verge  of  three 
score  and  ten  ;  and  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Monta 
gue,  until  two  years  beyond  it,  indulged  her 
lively  and  capricious  temperament ;  Mather 
Byles,  who  wrapped  his  bright  fancies  in  verse 
as  well  as  prose,  reached  his  sixty-second  year ; 
and  Sidney  Smith,  at  seventy-six,  retained  in  a 
remarkable  degree  his  intellectual  keenness  and 
originality. 

Literary  pursuits   seem  not  to   have  been 


152  PAST     ME  BID  I  AN. 

adverse  to  the  happiness  or  longevity  of  fe 
males.  Mrs.  Hoffland  and  Miss  Jane  Porter 
reached  seventy-four  in  dignity  and  honor ; 
Mrs.  Chapone,  seventy-five ;  Mrs.  Piozzi,  the 
biographer  of  Dr.  Johnson,  eighty-one ;  Miss 
Burney,  eighty-eight ;  Mrs.  Carter,  eighty-nine ; 
and  the  venerated  Hannah  More  died  only  one 
year  younger,  having  with  indefatigable  in 
dustry,  composed  eleven  books,  after  she  had 
numbered  her  sixtieth  birthday.  Mrs.  Eliza 
beth  Montague  and  Mrs.  Sherwood  lived  to  be 
eighty-one ;  and  Mrs.  Barbauld,  to  a  still  more 
advanced  age.  Of  the  latter,  it  was  said  by 
Mrs.  Mary  L.  Ware,  who  visited  her  in  1823, 
"  Though  now  eighty-two,  she  possesses  her 
faculties  in  full  perfection  ;  her  manner  is  pecu 
liarly  gentle,  her  voice  low  and  sweet,  and  she 
speaks  of  death  with  such  firm  hope,  that  I 
felt  as  if  I  were  communing  with  a  spiritual 
body.51 

Didactic  and  philosophical  writers  seem 
often,  in  their  calm  researches,  to  have  found 
refuge  from  that  strife  of  thought  which  embit 
ters  or  shortens  existence. 

Plato  wove  for  the  men  of  Attica  his  beau 
tiful  and  sublime  theories,  to  the  age  of  eighty- 
one.  At  eighty-five,  John  Evelyn  closed  his 


LONGEVITY,     ETC.  153 

eyes  at  his  fair  estate  in  Wotton,  which  he  had 
embellished  both  as  a  naturalist  and  an  author, 
engraving  on  his  marble  monument,  as  the 
result  of  long  experience,  that  "  all  is  vanity 
which  is  not  honest,  and  that  there  is  no  solid 
wisdom  but  in  real  piety."  The  diligent  and 
acute  Bentley  reached  fourscore ;  and  Walker, 
seventy-five  ;  and  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson,  "  whose 
name  is  a  host,"  attained  the  same  age,  having 
with  characteristic  energy  applied  himself  to 
the  study  of  the  Dutch  language,  but  a  short 
time  before  his  death.  Scaliger  and  Parkhurst 
fell  only  a  few  months  short  of  threescore  and 
ten ;  Ainsworth  passed  three  years  beyond  it ; 
Dr.  Noah  Webster,  our  own  New  England 
lexicographer,  retained  unimpaired  until  eighty- 
four  his  physical  and  mental  health,  with  the 
rich  store  of  his  varied  attainments.  Lindley 
Murray,  at  more  than  eighty,  continued  in  the 
active  duties  of  Christian  philanthropy  ;  and 
the  philologist,  Mitscheiiich,  the  Nestor  of  the 
German  schools,  and  uncle  to  the  famous  chem 
ist  of  that  name,  died  at"  Gottingen,  at  the  age 
of  ninety-three.  One  who  visited  Humboldt, 
after  he  had  passed  his  eighty-sixth  birthday, 
says,  "  this  illustrious  philosopher  is  still  in 
the  full  enjoyment  of  bodily  health  and  vigor, 
7* 


154  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

continuing  as  heretofore,  to  devote  himself  to 
the  interests  of  science,  with  wonderful  activity 
and  perseverance,"  not  having,  it  is  asserted,  in 
the  last  half-century,  spent  an  idle  hour.  Sir 
Isaac  Newton,  as  illustrious  for  Christian  hu 
mility  as  for  intellectual  greatness,  laid  down 
his  earthly  honors  at  eighty-five ;  and  Franklin, 
who,  in  the  words  of  Mirabeau,  "  stole  the  light 
ning  from  heaven,  and  the  sceptre  from  ty 
rants,"  cheered  us  with  the  mild  radiance  of 
his  philanthropy  till  eighty-four  ;  and  Herschel 
rose  above  the  stars,  with  which  he  had  long 
communed,  at  eighty ;  while  his  sister,  whom 
he  had  so  kindly  made  the  companion  of  his 
celestial  excursions,  survived  until  ninety-eight. 
Yet  it  was  not  our  intention  to  gather  from  the 
lists  of  science,  its  multiplied  examples  of  ripe 
age  and  rare  fame,  but  rather  devote  our  pre 
scribed  limits  to  the  affinities  of  literature  with 
longevity. 

The  sympathies  that  spring  from  community 
of  labor  in  the  field  of  intellect,  are  salutary  and 
graceful.  Those  minds  that  are  above  the  petty 
asperities  of  rivalship,  have  often  thus  enjoyed 
a  friendship  of  singular  depth  and  fervor.  This 
seems  to  have  been  the  case  with  many  of  the 
distinguished  writers  of  England's  Augustan 


LONGEVITY,      ETC.  155 

age.  Frequent  association  led  to  intimacy  of 
plan  and  pursuit.  They  criticized  each  other's 
works,  and  in  the  attrition  of  kindred  spirits, 
found  that  as  "  iron  sharpeneth  iron,  so  doth 
the  countenance  of  a  man,  his  friend."  It  has 
been  finely  said  of  Pope,  that  he  "  reverenced 
his  equals  in  genius,  and  that  of  those  friends 
who  surpassed  him,  he  spoke  with  respect  and 
admiration."  Of  Gay  it  was  asserted,  by  one 
of  his  literary  associates,  that  "  everybody 
loved  him."  Even  the  witty  and  sarcastic 
Swift  shrank  to  open  a  letter  which  he  feared 
might  announce  the  fatal  termination  of  a 
sickness  that  oppressed  this  friend.  It  lay  long 
on  his  cabinet,  unsealed,  and  was  afterward 
endorsed  by  him,  as  communicating  the  mourn 
ful  event  of  his  "  dear  friend  Gay's  decease,  re 
ceived  December  15th,  but  not  read  until  five 
days  after,  by  an  impulse  foreboding  some  mis 
fortune."  One  would  scarcely  have  expected 
such  sentimentality  from  the  fierce-tempered 
Dean  of  St.  Patrick's ;  but  literary  friendship 
softened  him.  The  intellectual  communion  of 
Addison  and  Steele,  cemented  an  interesting 
attachment ;  and  the  majestic  old  Johnson, 
though  with  less  of  mental  congeniality  for 
Goldsmith,  still  from  affectionate  regard  ex- 


156  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

cused  his  eccentricities,  praised  his  talents,  and 
rejoiced  in  his  reputation. 

This  amiable  and  salubrious  element  of  in 
tellectual  intercourse,  is  by  no  means  confined 
to  any  particular  age  or  country.  In  Germany, 
where  native  and  noble  impulse  is  the  least 
fettered  by  conventionalism,  in  France,  where 
genius  and  the  labors  of  literature  open  the 
gate  of  distinction  more  readily  than  a  key  of 
gold,  and  in  our  own  land,  where,  more  than 
in  any  other,  knowledge  should  be  the  heritage 
and  glory  of  the  people,  there  are  many  exam 
ples  of  unity  of  heart  between  those  who,  in 
different  departments,  advance  the  great  work 
of  mental  progress. 

The  poetic  friendship  of  the  Saxon  mind 
has  embalmed  itself  in  the  interwoven  lines 
and  lives  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.  The 
Lake  Spirits,  Wordsworth,  Southey,  and  Cole 
ridge,  beautifully  attested  the .  brotherhood  of 
genius,  until  the  "  threefold  cord  "  was  sunder 
ed  at  the  tomb. 

Much  of  this  affectionate,  generous  sympa 
thy  between  gifted  minds  seemed  to  me  still 
to  exist  in  Great  Britain,  and  though  I  was 
there  too  late  to  witness  it  in  those  most  ge 
nial  spirits,  Sir  Walter  Scott  and  Mrs.  Hemans 


LONGEVITY,      ETC.  157 

its  sweet  revealings  were  manifested  by  Maria 
Edge  worth  and  Joanna  Baillie,  as  well  as  by 
many  younger  and  distinguished  authors,  who 
still  live  to  bless  us. 

May  I  be  forgiven  if  I  here  add  a  little  epi 
sode  to  please  myself  ?  an  interview  at  Hamp- 
stead,  which  Memory  cherishes  among  her  pen 
cil-sketches. 

It  was  a  brighter  vernal  day  than  often 
occurs  under  English  skies,  when  I  drove 
thither  from  London,  to  see  Joanna  Baillie.  I 
found  her  seated  on  the  sofa,  in  her  pleasant 
parlor,  surrounded  by  many  portraits,  herself 
to  me  the  most  pleasant  picture,  of  dignified 
and  healthful  age.  On  her  cheek  was  some 
what  more  of  color  than  usual,  for  she  had  just 
returned  from  a  long  walk  among  her  poor 
pensioners,  and  the  exercise,  and  comfort  of 
active  benevolence,  lent  new  life  and  expression 
to  her  smile.  She  was  not  handsome,  at  least, 
so  the  world  said ;  her  high  cheek  bones  be 
spoke  her  Scottish  extraction,  and  seventy-six 
years  had  absorbed  any  charm  that  youth 
might  have  bestowed.  Yet  to  my  eye  she  was 
beautiful.  On  the  same  sofa  was  her  sister, 
Agnes,  whom  she  so  intensely  loved,  and  to 
whom  one  of  her  sweetest  poetical  effusions 


158  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

was  addressed.  Though  several  years  beyond 
fourscore,  her  complexion  was  singularly  fair, 
her  features  symmetrical,  and  her  demeanor 
graceful  and  attractive.  Between  them,  was 
seated  Rogers,  the  banker-poet,  with  locks  like 
the  driven  snow,  having  come  out  several  miles 
from  his  mansion  in  St.  James's  Park,  to  make 
them  a  friendly  call.  His  smooth  brow,  and 
fresh  flow  of  conversation,  made  it  difficult  to 
believe  that  this  could  be  indeed  his  eightieth 
spring.  It  seems  he  had  been  kindly  advising 
the  authoress  of  "  Plays  of  the  Passions,"  to 
collect  her"  fugitive  poems,  from  their  wide 
spread  channels,  into  the  more  enduring  form 
of  a  volume.  As  she  felt  disinclined  to  the 
labor,  he  had  himself  undertaken  and  accom 
plished  it,  and  was  now  discussing  the  success 
of  the  publication,  and  enjoying  the  high  suf 
frages  of  criticism,  as  if  they  were  his  own. 
While  their  cheering,  joyous  tones,  so  pleas 
antly  blended,  and  mental  communion  and  ser 
vice  seemed  to  have  given  them  new  youth,  or 
rather  to  have  kept  it  perennial,  I  felt  that  the 
world  could  not  furnish  another  such  trio,  and 
was  grateful  for  the  privilege  of  beholding  it. 

Even  now,  I  imagine  that  I  hear  the  voice 
of  that  venerable  man,  repeating  with  deliberate 


159 


intonation  and  perfect  emphasis,  his  favorite  pas 
sage  from  Mrs.  Barbauld,  who  herself  resided  in 
the  immediate  vicinity,  at  Hampstead.  It  was 
written  in  extreme  old  age,  but  with  unfaded 
vigor  of  intellect. 

"  Life  !  we've  been  long  together, 
Through  pleasant  and  through  cloudy  weather, 
'Tis  hard  to  part  where  friends  are  dear, 
Perhaps  'twill  cost  both  pang  and  tear  : 

So,  steal  away,  give  little  warning, 
Choose  thine  own  time, 
Say  not  good  night,  but  in  yon  happier  clime, 

Bid  me  good  morning." 

The  power  of  fine  writing,  sometimes  re 
mains  unimpaired  to  the  later  evening  of  life. 
One  of  the  most  distinguished  instances  of  this 
was  found  at  the  fair  home  of  Sunny  Side,  on 
the  banks  of  the  noble  Hudson.  There  Wash 
ington  Irving,  though  approaching  the  eightieth 
milestone  upon  his  journey  of  life,  continued 
with  much  of  the  spirit,  and  external  aspect  of 
earlier  years,  to  increase  the  number  of  his 
literary  laurels. 

England,  foregoing  her  prejudices  against 
American  literature,  vied  with  his  native  clime, 
in  paying  him  high  and  due  honor, — while  in 
a  dignified  retirement,  respected  by  all  who 


160  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

* 

knew  him,  he  marked  the  shadows  lengthen 
ing  in  his  path.  The  pen  which  had  won  for 
him  so  illustrious  a  place  in  the  annals  of  the 
world,  continued  a  loved  companion,  until  his 
country  stood  a  mourner  at  his  tomb. 

Professor  Silliman,  senior,  of  Yale  College, 
for  so  many  years  editor  of  the  "  American 
Journal  of  Science,"  is  one  of  the  most  distin 
guished  instances  of  vigor  and  symmetry  both 
of  mind  and  person,  overcoming  the  frosts  of 
time.  Among  his  literary  productions  are  two 
works,  each  descriptive  of  an  extensive  tour  in 
Europe,  made  with  an  interval  of  half  a  century 
between  them ;  the  later  one  yielding  nothing 
of  force,  variety  or  brilliance  to  its  predecessor, 
—  and  possibly  possessing  even  the  advantage, 
by  a  greater  admixture  of  the  bone  and  muscle 
of  science  with  the  drapery  of  narrative. 

Over  this  author,  eighty-five  years  have 
stolen,  apparently  forgetful  of  their  effacing 
power.  His  noble  form  is  still  unbowed,  his 
un spectacled  eyes  daunted  by  no  obscurity  of 
type  or  chirography,  and  his  urbanity  and 
courteous  hospitality  in  full  exercise.  When 
considerably  past  threescore  and  ten,  he  re 
turned  apparently  unfatigued  from  a  journey 
of  four  thousand  miles  to  our  far  West,  enjoying 


LONGEVITY,      ETC.  161 

the  varied  scenery  as  keenly  as  ever,  and  adding 
to  the  cheerfulness  of  his  travelling  companions, 
especially  entering  into  the  pleasures  of  the 
young,  with  a  fresh,  unclouded  spirit.  After 
ward,  he  was  induced  to  deliver  a  course  of 
Lectures  on  Geology,  at  St.  Louis,  Missouri, 
regarding  the  distance,  the  wintry  season,  and 
the  consequent  toil,  as  no  greater  obstacles 
than  in  early  manhood. 

His  maternal  grandfather,  the  Rev.  Joseph 
Fish,  was  for  half  a  century  the  faithful  and 
revered  pastor  of  a  church  in  North  Stoning- 
ton,  Conn.,  where  a  monument  has  been  recently 
erected  to  his  memory,  by  the  descendants  of 
those  who  had  the  privilege  of  his  ministra 
tions.  An  interesting  scene  is  recorded  as 
having  taken  place  in  his  chamber  when  death 
approached. 

General  Silliman,  the  husband  of  his  only 
daughter,  appeared,  leading  to  the  bedside,  his 
two  little  sons,  Gold  Selleck  and  Benjamin, 
to  request  for  them  the  blessing  of  their  saint 
ly  ancestor.  .  This  he  solemnly  gave,  with  an 
earnest  prayer  over  those  bright,  bowed-down 
heads,  which,  now,  with  their  silver  locks,  are 
still  held  in  honor  among  us. 


162  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

Beside  his  dying  couch  there  stood 

Two  boys  of  beauty  rare, 
And  tenderly  his  hand  was  laid 

Amid  their  lustrous  hair ; 
While  sweet  a  grandsire's  benison 

Fell  on  their  reverent  ear, 
As  erst  the  patriarch  Jacob  blest 

His  offspring  held  so  dear. 

Say,  did  that  prayer  of  faith  obtain 

The  joys  that  round  them  spread, 
And  in  the  casket  of  their  lives 

Such  precious  jewels  shed  ? 
"Wisdom  and  health,  and  length  of  days, 

And  treasures  that  attend, 
The  happy  home,  the  pious  heart, 

And  to  their  race  descend  ? 

The  accomplishment  of  lecturing,  which  re 
quires  such  a  combination  of  talent  is  occasion 
ally  among  the  perquisites  of  age.  Dr.  Cald- 
well  enumerates  several  striking  instances. 

"  Dr.  Shippen,"  he  says,  "  delivered  after  his  seventieth  year, 
some  of  the  ablest  and  most  instructive  lectures  I  have  ever 
heard  from  his  chair. 

"  Cullen  was  a  splendid  lecturer  in  the  medical  school  of 
Edinburgh,  at  the  age  of  eighty-three,  and  Monroe,  the  elder, 
was  equally  distinguished  at  about  the  same  age.  Boerhaave, 
when  more  than  seventy,  attracted  to  his  lectures,  crowds  of 
pupils  from  all  parts  of  Europe.  Blumenbach  did  the  same 
from  eighty-three  to  eighty-five ;  and  Professor  Hufeland, 
when  upward  of  fourscore,  was  the  pride  of  his  profession 
in  Berlin,  a  city  scarcely  inferior  to  any  in  science  and 
letters." 


LONGEVITY,      ETC.  163 

The  popular  lectures  that  so  agreeably  di 
versify  the  winters  in  most  of  our  cities,  and 
often  attract  such  dense  and  delighted  audi 
ences,  are  sometimes  uttered  by  men  past  their 
prime.  Distinguished  among  these,  was  the 
Rev.  John  Pierpont,  a  poet  as  well  as  a  scholar, 
and  one  of  nature's  noblemen ;  who  when  in 
his  seventy-second  year,  delivered  during  a 
single  season,  his  eightieth  lecture,  having 
travelled,  to  meet  their  consequent  engagements, 
more  than  twelve  thousand  miles. 

Those  who  have  had  the  privilege  of  listen 
ing  to  the  Honorable  Edward  Everett's  ele 
gant  and  classic  lectures,  especially  that  on  the 
character  of  Washington,  would  scarcely  imag 
ine  that  seventy  winters  had  passed  over  him, 
or  ever  forget  the  impression  of  his  perfect  ora 
tory  and  pure  patriotism. 

Turning  again  to  those  whose  age  did  not 
shrink  from  the  complicated  toils  of  authorship, 
we  perceive  a  work  from  the  pen  of  the  late 
George  Griffin,  LL.D.,  of  New  York,  entitled 
"  The  Gospel  its  own  Advocate."  It  was  writ 
ten  after  he  had  numbered  more  than  threescore 
and  ten,  and  shows  the  research  of  a  mind 
disciplined  by  the  severe  studies  of  jurispru 
dence,  accustomed  to  weigh  contending  claims, 


164  PAST     MEEIDIAN. 

to  throw  words  into  the  crucible,  and  through 
all  their  fermentations  watch  for  the  witnessings 
of  truth.  It  embodies  the  force  of  a  clear  in 
tellect,  and  the  conclusions  of  a  long  life.  The 
learned  author,  whose  life  was  protracted  to 
beyond  fourscore,  might  in  his  hours  of  literary 
labor,  -have  readily  selected  from  the  wide 
range  of  nature,  or  the  familiar  archives  of 
history,  a  theme  more  accordant  with  the  taste 
and  spirit  of  the  times,  but  religious]y  chose 
in  this,  as  well  as  in  a  previous  work,  to  devote 
the  gathered  lights  of  his  experience  to  the 
defence  and  illustration  of  that  gospel  wherein 
is  our  hope. 

The  Memoir  of  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  William 
Croswell,  of  Boston,  by  the  venerable  Dr.  Cros- 
well,  for  more  than  forty  years  Rector  of  Trin 
ity  Church,  in  New  Haven,  Connecticut,  is  an 
octavo  of  more  than  five  hundred  pages,  and 
undoubtedly  the  most  affecting  as  well  as  judi 
cious  tribute  that  a  man  of  genius  and  piety 
ever  received  from  a  father  of  almost  fourscore. 
Girding  himself  to  lay  in  the  grave  the  beloved 
one,  who,  according  to  the  order  of  nature, 
should  have  closed  his  own  dying  eyes,  instead 
of  sinking  under  so  great  a  sorrow,  he  roused 
himself,  and  with  the  same  zeal  and  patience 


LONGEVITY,      ETC.  165 

that  marked  Ms  own  ministry  until  its  close, 
constructed  a  monument  which  will  endure  when 
brass  and  marble  perish. 

An  interesting  catalogue  might  doubtless  be 
constructed  of  authors,  who  after  the  period  of 
seventy  or  even  of  eighty  years,  have  continued 
to  interest  and  instruct  mankind.  Dr.  Johnson 
prepared  his  celebrated  "  Lives  of  the  Poets," 
when  more  than  threescore  and  ten ;  Hannah 
More  wrote  her  work  on  "  Prayer,"  at  seventy- 
six  ;  Richard  Cumberland,  his  attractive  auto 
biography,  at  seventy -two,  and  his  poem  on 
"  Retrospection,"  several  years  later.  Dr.  Blair, 
so  celebrated  for  his  Lectures  on  "  Rhetoric  and 
Belles  Lettres,"  pursued  his  literary  labors  to 
a  great  age,  and  was  engaged  in  preparing  for 
the  press  an  additional  volume  of  sermons, 
when  Death  took  the  pen  from  his  hand,  in 
his  eighty-second  winter. 

At  a  still  more  advanced  age,  Walter  Savage 
Landor  retains  the  force  and  elasticity  which 
marked  his  youthful  style,  and  has  recently 
interested  himself  in  editing  a  work,  entitled 
"  Letters  of  an  American."  At  his  pleasant 
house  in  Bath,  England,  healthful  and  happy, 
he  delights  by  that  peculiar  wit,  which  in  early 
days  irradiated  the  pages  of  his  "  Imaginary 


166  PAST     MEKIDIAN. 

Conversations,"  and  gave  him  so  high  a  rank 
among  men  of  genius. 

The  compositions  of  Dr.  Franklin  after  he 
was  eighty,  some  of  which  were  dictated  only 
a  few  days  before  his  death,  display  much 
of  that  freshness  and  simplicity  which  gave 
a  charm  to  the  productions  of  his  earlier 
years. 

The  Rev.  Sidney  Smith,  to  the  last,  wielded 
a  pen  of  power  and  versatility.  "  I  do  not  con 
sider  my  education  by  any  means  finished,"  said 
he  at  seventy-four.  Ever  wras  he  learning  some 
thing,  not  only  in  the  intellectual  field,  but  in 
those  sciences  that  promote  the  comfort  of 
domestic  life,  and  in  the  healing  art,  that  he 
might  benefit  his  poor  parishioners.  When  in 
his  remote  and  ill-remunerated  curacy  of  York 
shire,  he  managed  to  erect  a  dwelling,  to  con 
struct  a  carriage  that  might  bear  him  to  his 
distant  posts  of  labor,  or  accommodate  his  del 
icate  wife,  and  also  provide  articles  of  furniture 
for  the  parsonage,  combining  convenience  with 
some  degree  of  grace,  though  the  materials 
with  which  he  could  supply  the  workmen, 
were  but  deal  boards.  To  elevate  the  condition 
of  the  surrounding  villagers,  he  devised  gardens 
for  them,  dividing  several  acres  of  his  glebe 


LONGEVITY,      ETC.  167 

into  small  portions,  and  giving  instruction  at 
his  intervals  of  leisure,  in  their  right  cultivation. 
A  pleasant  sight  it  was,  those  little  expanses 
of  rich  vegetables,  their  crevices  adorned  with 
a  vine,  or  flowering  shrub,  and  the  women  and 
children  cheerfully  working  there  in  early 
morning,  ere  they  went  forth  to  the  labors  of 
the  day.  There  was  not  only  added  comfort 
for  these  families,  but  a  pleasant  emulation  in 
their  own  hearts,  to  obtain  the  prize  he  had 
kindly  offered  for  the  best-cultured  and  most 
productive  domain. 

The  later  years  of  his  life  were  spent  amid 
comparative  wealth,  and  the  clerical  duties  of 
London,  yet  his  benevolence  and  delight  in 
social  pleasures  did  not  yield  to  time. 

"  Should  old  age  prove  a  state  of  suffering," 
he  says,  "  it  is  still  one  of  superior  wisdom. 
Then  a  man  avoids  the  rash  and  foolish  things 
to  which  he  was  tempted  in  youth,  and  which 
make  life  dangerous  and  painful." 

Those  who  have  already  attained  that  period, 
he  thus  advises : 

"  Be  diligently  occupied  in  the  highest  em 
ployments  of  which  your  nature  is  capable,  that 
you  may  die  with  the  consciousness  of  having 
done  your  best.  Keep  on  ;  be  energetic  to  the 


168  PAST      MEEIDIAN. 

last.  Take  short  views  ;  hope  for  the  best,  and 
trust  in  God." 

A  volume  of  poems,  recently  composed, 
during  the  short  period  of  six  months,  by 
James  Henry,  M.  D.,  and  published  in  Eng 
land,  show  that  warmth  of  fancy  and  grace  of 
versification  may  flourish  amid  the  snows  of 
fourscore. 

"We  give  a  specimen  of  this  octogenarian 
poetry,  which,  like  the  other  effusions  in  the 
book,  is  characterized  by  a  spirit  of  gladness 
and  hope,  proving  that  the  heart  has  not 
grown  either  old  or  cold. 

"  Pleasant  are  the  sun's  rays, 
Hill  and  vale  adorning  ; 
Pleasant  are  the  small  birds 
Singing  in  the  morning ; 

Pleasant  is  the  Spring's  breath,   • 
Thro'  the  thorn-hedge  blowing ; 

Pleasant  is  the  primrose 
In  the  garden  growing  ; 

Pleasant  is  the  kettle 

O'er  the  bright  fire  singing ; 
Pleasant  are  the  joy-bells 

In  the  steeple  ringing ; 

Pleasant  is  the  wild  bee's 

Right  contented  humming ; 
Pleasant  is  the  old  friend's 

Long-expected  coming." 


LONGEVITY,      ETC.  169 

No  author  of  modern  times,  has  probably 
reached  the  date  of  Lewis  Cornaro,  the  Vene 
tian.  His  three  treatises  on  health,  and  the 
means  of  its  preservation,  were  written  at  the 
respective  ages  of  eighty-one,  eighty-five,  and 
ninety-one.  They  are  brief  records  of  his  own 
life  and  regimen,  mingled  with  the  reflections 
and  precepts  of  a  clear  mind  and  sound  judg 
ment.  Their  style  is  as  perspicuous  and  spright 
ly  as  that  of  a  young  man.  They  earnestly 
recommend  the  strict  temperance  and  judicious 
exercise  of  both  body  and  mind,  by  which  he 
was  enabled  to  restore  the  health  which  at  forty 
seemed  prostrated,  but  which  for  sixty  years, 
with  unimpaired  intellectual  power,  it  was 
his  privilege  to  enjoy.  At  the  age  of  more 
than  one  hundred  years,  while  seated  in  his 
arm  chair,  and  apparently  without  suffering,  he 
ceased  to  breathe. 

The  author  of  the  admirable  "  Essay  on  Old 
Age,"  remarks : 

"  The  propensity  to  inaction  which  makes  its  insidious  visit 
at  the  commencement  of  the  decline  of  life,  is  a  weakness  which, 
by  temperance,  and  determined  resistance,  may  be  vanquished 
and  banished.  Three  observances  are  necessary :  strict  tem 
perance  in  diet,  drink,  and  in  emotions, — moderate  exercise  in 
the  open  air,  and  mental  industry  carried  to  a  suitable  extent, 
and  bestowed  on  suitable  subjects.  Men  of  a  high  order  of 
8 


170  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

mental  constitution,  may  thus  render  their  decline  capable  of 
vigorous  and  efficient  action  to  a  very  advanced  age,  not  un fre 
quently  to  their  eightieth  or  even  eighty-fifth  year." 

It  might  be  pleasant  to  enlarge  the  list  of 
those  who,  to  the  extreme  point  of  human  life, 
have  continued  to  enlighten  others  by  their 
intellectual  efforts.  But  the  present  purpose 
is  rather,  by  a  desultory  selection  of  examples, 
to  prove  that  the  mind  may  continue  expand 
ing,  and  refining  to  the  utmost  limit  of  mortal 
existence.  The  only  reason  to  the  contrary,  is 
the  disease  or  decay  of  those  organs  through 
which  it  receives  and  conveys  impressions.  By 
the  foregoing  instances,  as  well  as  others  which 
might  be  adduced,  it  will  appear  that  there  is 
no  necessary  connection  between  this  declension 
and  their  diligent  use.  Indeed,  through  the 
action  of  the  brain,  the  nervous  system  may 
doubtless  be  so  developed  as  to  acquire  even  a 
more  vigorous  tone. 

The  fever  of  literary  ambition,  the  rivalry 
of  authorship,  the  morbid  and  insatiable  thirst 
for  popularity,  are  not  numbered  among  the 
sanitary  tendencies,  or  worthy  ends  of  intel 
lectual  effort.  Neither  of  the  abuse  of  God's 
great  gift  of  genius  to  the  gratification  of  selfish 
and  depraved  tastes,  have  I  wished  to  speak, 


LONGEVITY,      ETC.  171 

but  rather  of  its  unison  with  the  highest  respon 
sibilities, — of  its  open  harmony  with  the  peren 
nial  flow  of  the  springs  of  life, — and  of  the 
long  peace  with  which  the  Great  Task  Master 
hath  sometimes  seen  fit  to  crown  it. 

Friendship  for  the  authors  who  have  cheered 
or  instructed  us,  is  one  of  the  peculiar  pleasures 
of  this  present  state  of  existence.  We  may 
have  never  seen  their  faces  in  the  flesh,  yet  we 
have  heard  their  voices.  They  may  have  died 
long  before  we  were  born.  "  But  their  speech 
hath  gone  forth  to  the  end  of  the  world."  We 
are  their  debtors  for  high  and  holy  thoughts. 
Pearls  have  they  gathered  for  us  from  the  pro- 
foundest  depths.  Flowers  that  are  ever  fra 
grant  they  strew  around  our  solitary  study. 
Their  diadems  sparkle  through  the  darkness  of 
midnight,  as  on  our  sleepless  pillows  we  com 
mune  with  them.  Benefactors  are  they,  to 
whom  ingratitude  is  impossible,  for  their  gifts 
have  become  a  part  of  ourselves. 

Literature,  like  those  fields  of  benevolence 
in  which  all  Christians  can  agree,  offers  a  fair 
meeting-ground  of  compromise  and  of  peace. 
It  has  room  enough  and  to  spare.  Its  laborers 
may  come  and  go  as  brethren,  and  not  impede 
each  other.  They  may  glean  in  safety,  all  day, 


172  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

like  the  true-hearted  Moabitess,  and  "  at  night, 
beat  out  what  they  have  gathered."  Perchance, 
the  world,  like  Naomi,  may  listen  for  their  foot 
steps  and  bless  them. 


CHAPTEK   XII. 


"  Like  living,  breathing  Bibles  !     Tables  where 
Both  covenants  at  large  engraven  were ; 
Gospel  and  Law,  on  heart  had  each  its  column, 
Their  head  an  index  to  the  Sacred  Volume, 
Their  very  name  a  title-page: — and  next, 
Their  h'fe  a  Commentary  on  the  text." 

REV.  BENJAMIN  WOODBRIDGE.* 

IT  is  an  interesting  study  to  trace  the  influ 
ence  of  the  varied  employments  of  man  upon 
his  physical  welfare.  Some  are  manifestly 
hazardous,  others  destructive  to  life.  They 
who  "  take  the  sword,  are  liable  to  perish  by 
the  sword."  They  who  "  go  down  to  the  sea 
in  ships,"  prove  by  their  brief  average  of  years, 
at  what  risk  they  grapple  with  adverse  ele 
ments.  They  who  excite  the  earth  to  fruitful- 
ness,  not  unfrequently  find  added  vigor  among 

*  The  first  graduate  of  Harvard  University. 


174  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

the  rewards  of  toil.  Would  it  be  irrational 
to  infer  that  they  who  cultivate  the  fruits  of 
immortality,  might  sometimes  gather  from 
their  richness  and  fragrance,  strength  for  the 
life  that  now  is,  as  well  as  for  that  which  is 
to  come  ? 

Among  the  less  exposed  and  more  sedentary 
professions,  the  employment  of  an  instructor  of 
youth  has  been  considered  favorable  to  lon 
gevity.  The  cheering  influence  of  companion 
ship  with  the  young,  like  an  indwelling  with 
fresh  and  beautiful  thoughts,  aids  in  preserving 
the  youth  of  the  mind ;  and  if  in  the  perpetual 
inculcation  of  good  principles,  and  a  right  prac 
tice,  there  is  a  development  of  feeling  that  makes 
even  strangers  dear,  a  solace  for  joys  that  are 
withheld,  or  have  departed,  it  might  be  con 
genial  also  to  physical  as  well  as  moral  pros 
perity. 

It  would,  therefore,  not  be  surprising  to  find 
among  those  who  have  chosen  as  their  life's 
vocation,  the  highest  interests  of  the  soul,  and 
by  voice  or  pen  labored  to  promote  them,  many 
instances  of  healthful  adjustment  of  structure  to 
pursuit,  and  the  prolonged  use  of  those  powers 
which  benevolence  and  piety  called  into  action. 

Looking  back  to  the  earlier  periods  of  Chris- 


AGED      DIVINES. 


tianity,  we  find  the  venerated  Jerome,  on  the 
borders  of  ninety,  and  Epiphanius  on  the  verge 
of  a  hundred.  Bishop  Burgess,  in  that  remark 
able  work,  entitled  "  The  Last  Enemy,"  so  dis 
tinguished  for  learned  research  and  profound 
piety,  says,  in  adducing  instances  of  long  life  :  — 

"  St.  Polycarp  seems  to  have  been  an  exception  to  the  com 
mon  lot,  and  Simeon,  the  second  Bishop  of  Jerusalem,  reached 
one  hundred  and  twenty  years  ;  both  dying  by  martyrdom. 
Many  of  the  saints  and  anchorites  of  the  earlier  ages,  were 
famed  for  length  of  days.  Paul  the  Hermit  is  said  to  have 
lived  to  be  a  hundred  and  thirteen  :  his  follower,  Antony,  to  a 
hundred  and  five  ;  and  John  the  Silent  to  a  hundred  and  four. 
The  cenobites  of  Mount  Sinai  not  unfrequently  attained  ex 
treme  age.  In  our  own  day,  a  Baptist  minister,  at  one  hundred 
and  eight,  has  addressed  a  congregation  from  the  pulpit." 

Recently  also,  has  been  announced  in  Eng 
land,  the  death  of  the  Reverend  G.  Fletcher, 
of  the  Wesley  an  denomination,  who  continued 
active  in  duty  to  the  same  great  age. 

Bishop  Leslie  completed  more  than  a  cen 
tury,  and  Bishop  Barrington,  in  his  ninety-third 
year,  having  read  the  usual  Sunday  course  with 
his  household,  told  them  it  "  was  the  last  tim#" 
and  ere  the  return  of  that  hallowed  day,  yielded 
his  breath  so  gently,  that  those  who  stood  by  his 
bedside  were  unconscious  of  the  moment  of 
transition. 


176  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

Thomas  a  Kempis,  whose  writings  filled 
three  folio  volumes,  and  whose  principal  work, 
"The  Imitation  of  Christ,"  which  was  com 
posed  at  the  age  of  sixty,  is  said  to  have  passed 
through  more  than  an  hundred  editions,  com 
prising  forty  in  the  original  Latin,  with  its 
translations  into  various  modern  languages, 
reached  his  ninety-second  year,  not  only  with 
unimpaired  mental  powers,  but  with  the  per 
fect  use  of  eyesight,  unaided  by  spectacles. 

At  an  equally  advanced  period,  was  Bishop 
Huet  removed,  and  also  Bishop  Wilson,  whose 
"  Sacra  Privata,"  still  breathes  like  living  in 
cense  upon  the  altar  of  the  pious  heart.  The 
venerated  Bishop  Lloyd  numbered  ninety  win 
ters  ;  and  at  the  same  age,  Archbishop  Har- 
court,  having  attended  divine  service  at  York- 
Minster,  announced  not  again,  beneath  the 
arches  of  that  noble  cathedral,  the  "  Lord  is  in 
His  holy  temple,"  being  summoned  ere  the  close 
of  the  week  to  a  more  glorious  company,  and  a 
"  house,  eternal  in  the  heavens." 

John  Wesley  was  enabled  to  persevere  in 
his  wonderful  toils  till  eighty-eight,  having,  be 
fore  he  reached  his  seventieth  year,  published 
more  than  thirty  octavo  volumes.  On  his  sev 
enty-second  birthday  he  writes : 


AGED      DIVINES,  177 

"  I  have  been  considering  how  it  is,  that  I  should  feel  just 
the  same  strength  that  I  did,  thirty  years  ago ;  that  my  sight 
is  even  considerably  better,  and  my  nerves  firmer  than  they 
were  then  ;  that  I  have  none  of  the  infirmities  of  age,  and  have 
lost  several  that  I  had  in  my  youth.  The  great  cause  is  the 
good  pleasure  of  God,  who  doeth  whatever  pleaseth  Him.  The 
chief  means  are,  first,  my  constant  rising  at  four,  for  the  last 
fifty  years  ;  second,  my  generally  preaching  at  five  in  the  morn 
ing,  one  of  the  most  healthful  exercises  in  the  world;  and 
thirdly,  my  never  traveling  less,  by  sea  and  land,  than  four 
thousand  miles  a  year." 

Bishop  Hurd,  at  a  similar  age  with  Wesley, 
closed  a  life  of  calm  piety,  by  consigning  him 
self,  at  the  usual  hour,  to  quiet  sleep,  from 
which  he  awoke  no  more  on  earth. 

Theodore  Beza  lived  to  be  eighty-six,  and 
Hoadley,  eighty-five ;  Lardner  was  a  year 
younger  at  his  death,  and  John  Newton,  four 
score  and  two.  Warburton  closed  his  learned  la 
bors  at  eighty-one ;  and  Lowth  and  Porteus  and 
Simeon,  completed  their  Christian  example  at 
seventy-seven  ;  and  Richard  Baxter,  at  seventy- 
six,  rose  from  the  "  Saint's  Rest,"  which  he  so 
touchingly  depicted,  to  that  "  Certainty  of  the 
World  of  Spirits,"  which  he  serenely  antici 
pated.  Archbishop  Seeker,  at  seventy-five, 
taught  how  saints  can  die  ;  and  William  Jones, 
of  Nayland,  and  Thomas  Scott,  the  commenta 
tor,  passed  from  faithful  service  to  their  great 


PAST     MEKIDIAN. 


reward,  at  the  age  of  seventy-four  ;  and  Bishop 
Andrews,  the  master  of  fifteen  languages,  who 
was  appointed  by  James  First  one  of  the  princi 
pal  translators  of  our  present  version  of  the 
Scriptures,  continued  until  seventy-one  his  un 
tiring  toils  and  devoted  charities.  Beveridge, 
beloved  by  all,  ceased  from  his  peaceful  pil 
grimage  at  seventy,  and  Philander  Chase,  long 
the  senior  Bishop  of  the  Episcopal  church  in 
these  United  States,  closed  the  earnest  labors 
commenced  in  early  youth,  and  the  pioneer 
bravery  of  his  unresting  age,  in  his  seventy- 
eighth  year. 

At  eighty-six,  the  Kev.  Solomon  Stoddard, 
for  more  than  threescore  years  pastor  of  but 
one  church  in  Northampton,  Mass.,  was  still  a 
zealous  and  effective  preacher;  and  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Archibald  Alexander  closed  eighty  years 
of  Christian  example,  in  the  serene  light  of  in 
tellect  and  happiness.  At  seventeen  he  became 
a  teacher  in  his  native  Virginia,  at  eighteen 
commenced  preaching  the  Gospel,  with  singular 
fervor  and  fluency,  and  for  the  ensuing  forty 
years  discharged  the  duties  of  a  professorship 
of  eminence,  in  the  theological  institution  at 
Princeton,  New  Jersey.  Old  age  was  never 
adduced  by  him,  as  an  excuse  from  any  labor. 


AGED      DIVINES.  179 

"  There  are  two  errors,"  he  said,  "  to  which  the 
aged  are  exposed.  One  is  that  of  refusing  to 
admit  that  they  are  old.  The  other,  that  of 
permitting  themselves  to  become  so  prema 
turely." 

Beautiful  instances  here  and  there  occur  of 
divines  who  have  devoted  all  of  life  to  one  post 
of  duty,  thus  enjoying  better  opportunities  to 
mature  their  plans  of  usefulness,  and  to  see 
blessed  fruit  ripen  in  fields  of  their  own  plant 
ing. 

Conspicuous  among  these  was  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Routh,  who  sustained  for  sixty -four  years  the 
presidency  of  Magdalen  College,  Oxford,  and 
died  at  the  age  of  ninety-nine.  This  learned 
and  venerable  man  preserved  good  health,  and 
habits  of  intellectual  research,  until  the  last. 
A  bright  link  was  he  between  the  present  and 
the  past,  having  in  youth  known  those  who  had 
personally  conversed  with  Ken,  Bull,  and  Bev- 
eridge. 

On  the  flourishing  branch  of  the  Church  of 
England  established  in  America  he  looked  with 
a  peculiarly  affectionate  interest,  having,  more 
than  seventy  years  before  his  death,  used  his 
influence  in  inducing  our  own  Seabury  to  seek 
consecration  from  the  Bishops  of  Scotland. 


180  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

The  extent  and  accuracy  of  his  knowledge, 
and  his  suavity  in  imparting  it,  were  proverbial. 
His  judgment  was  so  reliable,  and  his  self-con 
trol  so  absolute,  that  men  took  counsel  of  him 
as  of  an  oracle.  Notwithstanding  his  extreme 
age,  he  was  ever  courteous  to  strangers,  and 
accessible  to  the  youngest  person. 

An  interview  with  the  president  of  Magda 
len,  was  something  to  be  remembered,  even  by 
men  of  letters  and  distinction.  "  That  grave 
and  solemn  presence,  that  refined  and  somewhat 
austere  politeness,  the  invariable  pomp  of  full 
academic  costume,  the  spare  form,  alive  with 
intelligence,  the  inexhaustible  library,  the  co 
piousness  of  quotation,  and  immense  range  of 
knowledge  and  memory,  all  recalled  the  majes 
ty  of  the  past."  A  monument  of  his  reputation 
as  a  scholar  and  theologian,  is  the  work  entitled 
"  Reliquiae  Sacra,"  a  new  and  revised  edition 
of  which  he  prepared,  while  approaching  his 
hundredth  year. 

As  a  mark  of  the  affectionate  appreciation 
of  the  students  under  his  charge,  the  following 
brief  extract  is  subjoined  from  their  last  birth 
day  tribute  to  this  venerated  guide  and  friend. 

"  In  studious  care  a  century  well-nigh  past, 
Three  generations  RODTH'S  fresh  powers  outlast ; 


AGED      DIVINES.  181 

A  NESTOR'S  snows  his  reverend  temples  grace, 

A  NESTOR'S  vigor  in  his  mind  we  trace. 

Judgment  not  yet  on  her  tribunal  sleeps  ; 

Her  faithful  record  cloudless  Memory  keeps  ; 

Nor  eye  nor  hand  their  ministry  decline, 

The  letter' d  toils  or  service  of  the  Nine. 

Yet  through  his  heart  the  genial  current  flows, 

Yet  in  his  breast  the  warmth  of  friendship  glows : 

On  rites  of  hospitality  intent, 

Toward  Christian  courtesy  his  thoughts  are  bent ; 

While  from  his  lips,  which  guile  nor  flattery  know, 

"  Prophetic  strains,"  of  "  old  experience  "  flow. 

A  blessing  rest  upon  thy  sacred  head, 
Time-honor'd  remnant  of  "  the  mighty  dead," 
Through  whom  Oxonia's  sons  exulting  trace 
Their  stainless  lineage  from  a  better  race. 
Still  may  thy  saintly  course  their  beacon  shine ; 
Still  round  their  heartstrings  thy  meek  wisdom  twine, 
Still  be  their  loyal,  loving  homage  thine  ; 
And  tardy  may  the  heavenward  summons  come, 
Which  calls  thee  from  thy  sojourn  to  thy  home.' 

Bishop  White,  the  beauty  of  whose  silver 
locks  and  saintly  smile  still  dwells  in  the  mem 
ory  of  many,  entered  on  his  sacred  duties,  at  the 
age  of  twenty-four,  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia, 
and  there  continued  as  priest  and  prelate,  for 
sixty-four  years,  until  his  death  at  eighty-eight. 
During  two  years  spent  in  England,  after  the 
completion  of  his  theological  studies,  where  he 
also  received  orders,  he  numbered,  among  his 
privileges,  to  have  seen  and  heard  the  voices  of 


182  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

Bishop  South,  and  Bishop  Home,  Dr.  Samuel 
Johnson,  the  giant  of  English  literature,  and 
the  sweet  poet,  Oliver  Goldsmith. 

Amid  the  earliest  troubles  of  our  Revolu 
tion,  he  firmly  espoused  the  cause  of  his  coun 
try,  was  appointed  chaplain  to  Congress,  during 
the  gloomy  period  of  its  flight  to  Yorktown, 
and  continued,  after  its  return,  to  be  elected  an 
nually  to  that  office,  until  its  permanent  location 
at  the  present  seat  of  government.  The  fourth 
year  after  his  consecration  as  bishop,  Philadel 
phia  sustained,  for  several  months,  the  ravages  of 
pestilential  yellow  fever.  Like  the  plague,  it  sud 
denly  destroyed  almost  every  victim  whom  it 
seized.  The  mortality  was  fearful.  Those  who 
had  it  in  their  power  took  flight.  Among  them, 
was  every  minister  of  religion  except  himself. 
Removing  his  family  into  the  country,  he  remain 
ed,  that  he  might  lend  the  solaces  of  religion  to 
all  who  suffered.  Without  regard  to  denomina 
tion,  and  in  the  poorest  hovel,  he  might  be  found, 
pointing  to  the  "  Lamb  of  God,  that  taketh  away 
the  sins  of  the  world."  Untouched  by  the  De 
stroyer,  while  throngs  around,  and  even  the  ser 
vants  in  his  own  house,  fell,  he  stood  firm  at  his 
post,  between  the  living  and  the  dead,  lifting  the 
censer  of  prayer,  until  the  "  plague  was  staid." 


AGED      DIVINES.  183 

Fearless  in  duty,  and  sincerely  attached  to 
the  doctrines  of  his  own  church,  he  cherished 
no  bigotry,  or  spirit  of  condemnation  to  those 
of  differing  opinions.  In  his  meek  soul,  the  pre 
lacy  wrought  no  pride.  It  made  his  humility 
and  condescension  more  effective.  Time,  talents, 
and  fortune,  he  devoted  conscientiously  to  the 
good  of  others.  When,  on  the  verge  of  ninety, 
he  was  borne  to  his  grave,  the  beautiful  city  of 
his  birth  mourned  as  for  a  father.  Feelingly 
and  forcibly  was  it  said  of  him  by  one  of  an 
other  sect  of  Christians,  that  "  he  enjoyed  a  rev 
enue  above  a  monarch's  command ;  his  daily 
income  was  beyond  all  human  computation,  for 
whenever  he  went  forth,  age  paid  him  the  trib 
ute  of  affectionate  respect,  and  children  rose  up 
and  called  him  blessed." 

He  was  prized 

As  a  pure  diamond  that  an  elder  age 
Bequeathed  to  this  : — for  souls  that  wrap  themselves 
In  holy  love,  can  never  be  alone, 
Each  waking  generation  clasps  its  arms 
Fondly  around  them,  and  with  plastic  smile 
Learns  wisdom  from  their  lips. 

The  Rev.  William  Jay,  so  widely  known 
and  highly  prized  for  the  fervor  of  his  religious 
writings,  was  induced  by  circumstances  to  com- 


184  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

mence  preaching  at  the  age  of  sixteen.  In  this 
exercise  he  was  so  eminently  successful,  and 
took  such  delight,  that  it  was  mingled  with  his 
course  of  study,  and  he  had  delivered  more 
than  a  thousand  sermons  ere  he  had  attained 
the  age  of  twenty-one.  Afterwrards,  he  was  set 
tled  as  the  pastor  of  Argyle  Chapel,  in  Bath, 
where  he  continued  for  sixty-three  years,  until 
his  death  at  eighty-four,  encircled  to  the  last 
moment,  by  the  loving  hearts  of  his  people,  and 
the  reverence  of  mankind. 

Many  occasional  services  did  he  perform  in 
London  and  its  vicinity,  and  as  his  directness 
and  pathos  were  powerful  in  moving  to  deeds 
of  charity,  he  was  frequently  persuaded  thus  to 
advocate  the  different  forms  of  benevolence  that 
marked  his  times.  Age  did  not  impair  either 
his  freshness  of  memory,  or  his  power  in  the 
pulpit.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Johns,  of  Baltimore, 
who,  during  his  travels  abroad,  listened  to  him 
in  his  own  chapel,  when  in  his  eighty-fourth 
year,  thus  speaks : 

"  To  the  inquiries  of  American  friends,  as  to  whose  preach 
ing  I  liked  best  of  all  among  those  whom  I  heard  while  in  Eng 
land  and  Scotland,  my  answer  has  uniformly  been,  the  old 
preacher  at  Bath,  whom  you  all  know  as  the  author  of  the 
'  Morning  and  Evening  Exercises.'  " 


AGED      DIVINES.  185 

Amid  the  severity  and  variety  of  his  labors, 
and  the  fame  that  attended  them,  the  loveliness 
of  his  domestic  and  social  character  was  con 
spicuous.  His  delight  in  rural  scenery,  and  the 
simple  pleasures  of  horticulture,  were  great. 
When  far  advanced  in  years,  he  says,  in  a  letter 
to  absent  children : 

"  How  many  rose  trees  do  you  imagine  I  have  in  my  garden? 
Five  thousand  four  hundred  and  one.  How  fond  I  grow  of 
flowers  !  A  pious  female  said  lately,  while  dying, '  I  go  to  a  land 
of  peace  and  of  flowers?  " 

So  much  did  he  desire  to  impart  the  pleas 
ures  he  thus  received,  that  it  was  his  habit  to 
give  each  of  his  servants,  on  Sunday,  when 
going  to  church,  a  large  handful  of  flowers, 
charging  them  on  no  account  to  bring  them 
back,  but  distribute  them  to  the  poor  people, 
who  would  value  them  more,  as  sent  from  his 
garden.  Cheerfulness  and  gratitude  to  God, 
pervaded  his  daily  course  of  duty,  and  beauti 
fully  has  he  thus  described  both  : — 

"  The  place  of  my  residence,  is  of  all  others,  that  of  my 
preference.  My  condition  has  been  that  happy  medium  of 
neither  poverty  nor  riches.  My  friends  have  been  many,  and 
cordial,  and  steady.  I  have  a  better  opinion  of  mankind  than 
when  I  began  my  public  course.  I  cannot,  therefore,  ask  what 
is  the  cause  that  former  days  were  better  than  these  ?  Surely, 
goodness  and  mercy  have  followed  me  all  the  days  of  my  life." 


186  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

Twelve  years  before  his  death,  the  jubilee 
of  his  ministry  at  Bath  was  celebrated  with  all 
the  enthusiasm  that  an  attached  and  liberal 
people  could  evince.  Gifts  of  great  value,  and 
touching  import,  were  presented  him,  and  cler 
gymen  of  various  denominations  united  in  testi 
fying  respect  for  him,  who  had  preached  the 
gospel  in  the  love  of  it.  Original  hymns  for 
the  occasion  were  prepared  by  the  poet  Mont 
gomery,  from,  one  of  which  we  select  the  follow 
ing  stanzas : 

"  To  God  he  gave  Ms  flower  of  youth, 

To  God,  his  manhood's  fruit  he  gave, 
The  herald  of  life-giving  truth, 

Dead  souls  from  endless  death  to  save. 

Forsake  him  not  in  his  old  age, 

But  while  his  Master's  cross  he  beai:s, 

Faith  be  his  staff  of  pilgrimage, 
A  crown  of  glory  his  gray  hairs." 

Seldom  have  I  been  more  impressed  by  the 
happy  temperament  and  almost  youthful  activ 
ity  that  may  comport  with  threescore  years  and 
ten,  than  in  the  case  of  a  minister  of  the  Baptist 
denomination,  met  during  my  visit  in  Scotland, 
the  Rev.  William  Innes  of  Edinburgh.  He  was 
in  the  habit  of  varying  his  more  sedentary  pur 
suits,  by  a  summer  excursion,  on  foot,  among 


AGED      DIVINES.  187 

the  rude  scenery  and  people  of  the  Highlands. 
Having  prepared  himself  to  preach  in  their  na 
tive  tongue,  he  collected  large  audiences,  who 
listened  with  riveted  attention  to  the  truths  of 
the  gospel.  This  missionary  service,  which  by 
most  persons  would  have  been  deemed  severe, 
was  the  only  recreation  in  which  he  indulged 
during  a  whole  year  of  steadfast,  strenuous  la 
bor.  He  would  return  from  it  with  an  elastic 
step,  and  a  cheek  and  lip  florid  with  health. 
Until  between  eighty  and  ninety,  he  was 
spared  to  guide  a  beloved  flock  by  voice  and 
example. 

Rev.  Rowland  Hill,  at  an  equally  advanced 
age,  was  enabled  to  persevere  in  his  work  with 
characteristic  vivacity  and  eloquence.  A  pleas 
ing  description  of  some  of  his  octogenarian  la 
bors,  is  given  by  the  graphic  pen  of  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Sprague,  of  Albany,  the  accomplished 
author  of  that  invaluable  work,  the  "  Annals  of 
the  American  Pulpit,"  in  ten  large  octavo  vol 
umes.  While  on  a  visit  to  him,  he  mentions 
his  spirited  going  forth  one  morning  to  fulfil 
an  appointment  at .  a  church,  fourteen  miles  dis 
tant  from  London,  preaching  at  another  on  his 
homeward  route  at  three  in  the  afternoon,  and 


188  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

again,  with  undirninished  energy,  a  third  ser 
vice,  after  his  return  to  the  metropolis. 

"  I  attended,"  says  the  narrator,  "  this  evening,  worship  at 
Tottenham  Court-Road  Chapel,  and  found  a  thronged  house, 
and  the  preacher  seemed  just  as  vigorous  and  fresh  as  if  his 
faculties  had  not  been  tasked  at  all  during  the  day.  He  told 
me  that  upon  an  average,  he  preached  about  seven  times  a  week, 
besides  having  much  of  his  time  taken  up  with  public  engage 
ments,  though  he  had  then  reached  the  age  of  eighty-three,  and 
had  been  in  the  ministry  sixty-four  years.  When  I  took  my 
final  leave  of  him,  he  said,  '  Remember  me  kindly  to  any  of  my 
friends  you  may  meet  in  America,  and  tell  them  that  I  have  not 
quite  done  yet.' 

I  have  never  seen,  on  the  whole,  another  man  to  whom  Rev. 
Rowland  Hill  could  be  likened.  The  son  of  a  baronet,  there 
was  nobility  impressed  upon  his  whole  appearance,  and  bearing, 
and  character ;  and  yet  no  man  labored  more  zealously  than  he 
for  the  improvement  of  the  humblest  classes.  He  had  an  exu 
berance  of  wit,  and  yet  it  was  evident  that  he  lived  almost  con 
stantly  amidst  the  realities  of  the  future.  He  was  gentle,  and 
mild,  and  winning,  but  when  occasion  required,  would  rebuke 
sinners,  and  come  down  upon  the  follies  of  the  times,  like  a 
thunderbolt  or  an  avalanche." 

Mingled  with  his  originality  and  boldness, 
was  a  large  benevolence,  and  tender  pity  for 
suffering.  He  erected  Surry  Chapel,  and  other 
places  of  wo'rship,  at  his  own  expense,  tene 
ments  also  for  the  indigent,  and  for  the  widow, 
and  was  a  visitant  of  the  lowliest  shed,  where 
poverty  mourned,  even  to  extreme  old  age. 

The  ecclesiastical  history  of  our  own  coun- 


AGED      DIVINES.  189 

try,  especially  of  New  England,  is  rich  in  exam 
ples  of  consecration  of  tlie  energies  of  a  whole, 
long  life,  to  a  single  church  and  people,  thus 
giving  broad  scope  for  the  blessed  affections 
that  spring  from  so  hallowed  an  intercourse. 
Of  these  precious  instances  of  pastoral  constan 
cy,  the  annals  of  Connecticut  have  their  full 
share.  In  1665,  scarcely  thirty  years  after  its 
first  colonists  stirred  the  depths  of  its  unbroken 
forest,  with  "  their  hymns  of  lofty  cheer,"  we 
find  the  Rev.  James  Noyes,  in  his  sea-girt  home, 
at  Stonington,  guiding  a  single  flock,  for  almost 
fifty-six  years,  till  recalled  by  the  Chief  Shep 
herd,  at  fourscore. 

The  Rev.  Samuel  Andrew  was  the  pastor  of 
Milford,  from  1675,  for  a  period  of  more  than 
half  a  century.  Besides  his  ministerial  labors, 
he  devoted  much  time  and  attention  to  Yale 
College,  then  in  its  infancy.  Being  a  man  of 
learning,  he  was  an  instructor  of  its  senior  class, 
after  the  death  of  the  first  president,  before  its 
permanent  location  in  New  Haven ;  and  for 
nearly  forty  years  continued  an  active  member 
of  its  corporation. 

In  1694,  at  Windsor,  one  of  the  earliest 
settled  towns  on  the  banks  of  the  beautiful 
Connecticut,  the  Rev.  Timothy  Edwards,  as- 


190  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

sumed  the  pastoral  duties,  which  for  sixty-two 
years,  he  was  enabled  to  discharge,  with  use 
fulness  and  happiness,  to  the  age  of  ninety. 
Among  his  honors,  should  be  recorded,  that 
of  training  his  illustrious  son,  the  first  Pres 
ident  Edwards,  one  of  the  most  devout  men 
and  acute  metaphysicians  of  his  own,  or  any 
other  times. 

The  first  ecclesiastical  Society  in  East 
Haven,  had,  from  its  birth,  in  1708,  for  fifty 
years,  enjoyed  the  fostering  care  of  the  Rev. 
Jacob  Hemenway,  whose  cradle  and  grave 
were  beneath  the  same  fair  shades ;  and  after 
his  death,  that  of  the  Rev.  Nicholas  Street, 
who  on  the  day  that  completed  the  fifty- 
first  anniversary  of  his  acceptance  of  the  sacred 
office,  went  peacefully  to  the  Redeemer  whom 
he  loved.  For  more  than  a  whole  century 
did  those  two  servants  of  God  watch  over 
that  one  people. 

The  Rev.  Anthony  Stoddard,  from  1704, 
completed  a  pastorate  of  fifty-eight  years,  in 
the  romantic  region  of  Woodbury. 

A  man  he  was  of  unresting  activity,  earnest 
and  skillful  in  the  wisdom  of  this  life,  as  well 
as  of  that  which  is  to  come.  His  people  sought 
counsel  of  him,  in  secular  as  well  as  spiritual 


AGED      DIVINES.  191 

doubts.  In  many  of  their  physical  ailments,  he 
was  their  healer ;  in  their  testamentary  disposi 
tions,  their  adviser  and  clerk  of  probate ;  in 
cases  of  conflicting  interest,  their  protector  from 
the  evils  of  litigation.  Nor  was  this  versatility, 
and  extent  of  practical  knowledge,  so  used  as 
to  impair  the  dignity  of  the  pulpit,  but  rather 
through  an  increase  of  personal  sympathy,  ren 
dered  it  more  efficacious. 

The  Rev.  Moses  Dickenson,  who  died  at 
Norwalk,  at  the  age  of  more  than  fourscore, 
had  been  sixty-four  years  in  the  active  duties 
of  the  ministry.  In  his  earlier  prime,  he  offi 
ciated  in  New  Jersey,  but  for  more  than  half 
a  century,  was  devoted  to  the  affectionate  peo 
ple  among  whom  he  closed  his  eyes,  and  who 
paid  him  truthful  tribute  in  their  simple  monu 
mental  inscription,  as  a  "  man  of  good  under 
standing,  well-informed  by  study,  cheerful  in 
temper,  and  prudent  in  conduct." 

The  Rev.  Solomon  Williams  took  charge 
of  the  church  at  Lebanon,  somewhat  more  than 
half  a  century  before  our  Revolution,  having 
scarcely  reached  the  age  of  twenty-one.  Other 
professions  might  have  allured  him,  for  he  was 
a  distinguished  scholar  at  Harvard  University, 
where  he  graduated  at  eighteen  ;  but  the  choice 


192  PAST     MEKIDIAIST. 

of  his  heart  was  theology.  Fifty-four  years 
did  he  faithfully  teach  and  serve  that  people. 
If  there  were  differences  to  be  composed  among 
them,  he  was  their  peacemaker.  Their  pas 
sions  were  wont  to  yield  to  his  mildness,  and 
force  of  reasoning.  Unassuming,  yet  fearless, 
his  gravity  was  mingled  with  a  serene  cheer 
fulness,  readily  beaming  out  into  pleasantry, 
and  it  was  sententiously  affirmed  of  him,  by 
one  qualified  to  judge,  that  he  was  through  his 
whole  clerical  course,  u  so  affable  that  all  might 
approach  him,  yet  so  dignified  that  none  could 
do  so  without  respect." 

The  senior  Governor  Trumbull,  a  man  of 
kindred  excellence,  and  long  one  of  the  com 
municants  in  his  church,  characterizes  him  as 
"  that  eminently  learned  and  pious  divine."  In 
a  letter  to  his  distinguished  son,  the  second 
Governor  of  that  name,  dated  in  the  spring 
of  1776,  he  thus  touchingly  announces  his 
decease : — 

"  Alas !  he  is  gone  from  us.  To  the  last,  he  was  calm, 
patient  and  resigned.  Let  us  follow  him  as  he  followed  our 
Lord  and  Master,  Jesus  Christ.  It  will  not  be  the  fault  of 
our  dear  departed  Teacher,  if  we  have  not  profited  under 
his  instructions.  His  friendship  hath  been  one  of  the  great 
comforts  of  my  life." 

The  same  fair,  rural  township,  where  his 


AGED      DIVINES.  193 

ashes  repose,  was  the  birthplace  of  the  Rev. 
Dr.  John  Smalley,  for  more  than  sixty  years 
the  beloved  pastor  at  Berlin.  For  this  long 
period  he  was  exhibiting  in  that  one  spot,  the 
beauty  of  Christian  example,  enforced  by 
energy  in  the  pulpit,  knowledge  of  human 
nature,  and  soundness  of  judgment,  in  the 
daily  intercourse  of  life.  At  the  age  of  eighty- 
six,  Death  unbraced  his  armor,  and  taught 
him  the  triumph-song, — "  thanks  be  unto  God, 
who  giveth  us  the  victory,  through  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ." 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Benjamin  Trumbull  was  or 
dained  at  North  Haven,  in  1760,  and  contin 
ued  to  discharge  pastoral  duty,  with  great  fidel 
ity,  among  the  same  people,  for  sixty  years ;  at 
taining  himself,  the  age  of  fourscore  and  four. 
To  his  ministerial  toils,  he  added  those  of  au 
thorship,  bequeathing  to  posterity  the  "  His 
tory  of  Connecticut,"  in  two  volumes  octavo ; 
a  "  History  of  the  United  States,"  not  entirely 
finished,  with  other  works  on  theological  sub 
jects.  The  patient  research  in  accumulating  facts 
and  statistics,  and  the  persevering  labor,  requi 
site  to  the  accurate  historian,  and  which  writers 
in  no  other  department  can  fully  comprehend, 
he  possessed  in  full  measure.  Venerated  by 
9 


194  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

all  his  cotemporaries,  his  pen  and  life  wrought 
out  the  same  memorial  of  intellectual  eminence 
and  saintly  piety. 

The  Kev.  Dr.  Andrew  Lee,  from  1768,  offi 
ciated  as  the  pastor  of  Hanover,  sixty-two 
years,  unaided  and  alone,  and  sixty-four,  with 
the  occasional  assistance  of  a  colleague.  Grav 
ity,  and  "  sound  speech,  that  needeth  not  to 
be  ashamed,  were  among  the  elements  of  his 
character.  So  were  also,  contentment  with  his 
lot  and  its  duties,  and  an  aversion  to  change, 
from  principle.  To  a  young  minister,  who  con 
sulted  him  on  the  subject  of  taking  a  new 
parish,  saying  that  it  would  "  help  his  stock  of 
sermons,"  he  replied. 

"  Will  it  help  your  stock  of  grace,  brother  ? 
Or  would  it  help  to  build  up  the  churches,  if 
all  their  pastors  turned  itinerants,  to  save  them 
selves  the  trouble  of  study  ? " 

In  his  eighty-eighth  year,  he  gave  his  last 
blessing  to  the  rural  scenes  of  his  love  and  toil, 
and  entered  into  the  "  rest  that  rernaineth  for 
the  people  of  God." 

And  now,  suffer  me  to  pause  by  an  unassu 
ming,  sacred  edifice,  overshadowed  by  towering 
ledges  of  gray  rock,  at  whose  base  glide  the 
bright  waters  of  the  Yantic,  From  that  pulpit, 


AGED      DIVINES.  195 

while  one  hundred  and  seventeen  years  notched 
their  seasons  upon  those  cliffs,  and  generation 
after  generation  yielded  to  the  sickle  of  time, 
the  voice  of  but  two  spiritual  guides  were 
heard,  teaching  the  way  of  salvation.  Of  one, 
the  fathers  have  told  me — the  other,  shed  the 
baptismal  water  on  my  infancy,  and  drew  my 
youthful  feet  within  the  fold  of  Christ. 

Dr.  Benjamin  Lord,  born  in  1693,  took 
charge  of  the  church  at  Norwich,  in  1Y17, 
continuing  there  for  sixty-seven  years,  until 
his  death  in  his  ninety-second  year.  Though 
he  attained  such  longevity,  his  constitution  was 
not  vigorous,  and  the  measure  of  health  that 
he  enjoyed,  especially  in  early  life,  seemed  the 
result  of  care,  rather  than  of  native  strength. 
Still  this  prudence  never  withheld  him  from 
any  duty  of  his  sacred  profession,  for  self  was 
forgotten,  when  his  Master  called.  Like  an 
affectionate  father  with  his  children,  he  dwelt 
among  his  people.  "  In  their  hearts  I  have 
lived,"  said  he,  "  and  they  in  mine." 

At  the  age  of  seventy-four,  he  preached  his 
half-century   sermon,  apparently   possessed   of 
more  physical  endurance  than  in  his  prime,  and 
also,  a  sixty-fourth  anniversary  sermon  when 
in  his  eighty-ninth  year.     Emphatically  might 


196  PAST      MEEIDIAN. 

it  have  been  said  of  him,  "  that  they  who  wait 
upon  the  Lord  shall  renew  their  strength." 

Dimness,  in  the  later  years  of  his  ministry, 
gathered  over  his  sight.  Yet  still  he  sat  in  the 
accustomed  chair  in  his  study,  and  wrote  his 
discourses,  partially  by  the  sense  of  feeling, 
guiding,  as  well  as  he  was  able,  the  course  of 
his  lines  upon  the  paper,  with  the  fingers  of 
his  left  hand.  Then  a  gentle  grand-daughter, 
who  greatly  loved  him,  would  read  slowly  to 
him,  with  her  sweet  clear  voice,  what  he  had 
composed,  until  it  was  so  impressed  upon  his 
memory,  that  he  could  deliver  it  with  his  wont 
ed  fluency.  Fitting  scene  for  a  painter,  that 
man,  so  meekly  beautiful,  his  hoary  head  slight 
ly  declined,  listening  to  his  own  sacred  themes, 
from  the  filial  lips  of  the  fair-haired  maiden. 
Indeed,  his  flock,  who  were  pleased  with  what 
ever  their  old  Shepherd  did,  said  his  sermons 
were  even  better  than  before  he  became  blind, 
for  the  great  labor  of  transcribing  gave  force 
of  condensation,  and  his  natural  fullness  of 
thought  and  language  sometimes  approached 
redundancy.  Though  of  a  gentle  spirit,  he  was 
occasionally  earnest  and  authoritative  in  de 
manding  obedience  to  the  requisitions  of  the 
Gospel. 


AGED      DIVINES.  197 

Difference  of  religious  opinion,  in  those 
days,  as  well  as  in  our  own,  sometimes  inter 
rupted  Christian  intercourse.  A  degree  of 
estrangement  had  been  thus  permitted  to 
exist  between  him  and  the  minister  of  an 
adjacent  township.  But  the  hallowed  in 
fluence  of  age,  and  the  approach  to  a  clime 
of  perfect  harmony,  melted  the  shades  of  doc 
trine,  and  the  ice  of  prejudice.  He  could 
not  bear  that  any  cloud  should  obscure  the 
sunlight  of  charity,  and  remembering  this  one 
instance  of  an  alienated  friend,  determined  him 
self  to  make  advances  for  reconciliation.  An 
interview  was  requested,  and  when  the  saintly 
old  man  saw  the  younger  one  approaching,  he 
rose  to  meet  him,  taking  both  his  hands,  said 
with  a  tenderness  that  melted  those  present  to 
tears,  "  Brother  underneath  thee  be  the  Ever 
lasting  Arms.  May  wTe  dwell  together  where 
love  is  eternal." 

With  what  affectionate  reverence  did  the 
people  watch  their  blessed  minister,  as  when 
past  the  age  of  ninety,  having  for  almost  sev 
enty  years,  spread  before  them  the  riches  of 
the  Gospel,  and  besought  them  to  be  recon 
ciled  to  God,  he  was  led  in  his  feebleness,  Sun 
day  after  Sunday,  to  ascend  the  pulpit  stairs, 


198  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

and  pronounce  the  benediction.  When  he 
sometimes  said,  with  trembling  tones,  and 
the  smile  as  of  an  angel,  "  I  am  now  ready 
to  be  offered  up :  the  time  of  my  departure 
is  at  hand,"  though  every  soul  among  them 
might  have  responded,  "  Thou  hast  fought  the 
good  fight,  thou  hast  kept  the  faith,"  or  lis 
tened  for  a  voice  from  above,  "  Henceforth, 
there  is  laid  up  for  thee  a  crown  of  righteous 
ness,"  yet  in  the  depth  of  their  love,  they  were 
ready  rather  to  weep. 

"  Like  flock  bereft  of  shepherd,  when  snows  shut  out  the  day." 

By  his  side,  attentive  to  every  movement, 
anxious  to  relieve  him  from  every  care,  stood 
his  young  colleague,  the  Rev.  Joseph  Strong. 
Gray -headed  men,  who  remembered  his  ordina 
tion,  have  described  it  as  a  scene  strikingly 
impressive.  The  concourse  was  large  and  at 
tentive,  the  music  devout  and  elevating.  The 
candidate  about  to  receive  the  sacred  vows,  was 
surrounded  by  many  elders  in  the  ministry. 
The  preacher  selected  for  the  occasion,  was  his 
own  brother,  Rev.  Dr.  Nathan  Strong,  for  more 
than  forty  years  pastor  of  the  First  Congrega 
tional  church  in  Hartford,  and  one  of  the  most 
distinguished  and  eloquent  men  of  his  times. 


AGED      DIVINES.  199 

His  text  was  from  the  sublime  prophet :  "  How 
beautiful  upon  the  mountains,  are  the  feet  of 
him  that  bringeth  good  tidings,  that  publisheth 
peace,  that  saith  unto  Zion,  thy  God  reigneth." 
The  rich  and  tender  tones  of  his  voice  trembled 
with  feeling,  as  at  the  close  he  said : 

"  My  dear  brother,  now  I  may  address  you  by  that  endearing 
epithet,  in  all  senses.  We  received  our  being,  under  God,  from 
the  same  parents,  were  educated  by  the  same  nurturing  kind 
ness,  have  professed  obedience  to  the  same  glorious  Master,  and 
this  day  introduces  you  as  a  fellow-laborer  in  his  vineyard. 
Very  pleasant  hast  thou  been  unto  me,  my  brother ;  and  never 
was  my  joy  greater  in  beholding  thee,  than  on  this  day's  solem 
nities.  Long  may  thy  feet  be  beautiful  on  these  mountains  of 
Zion." 

Still  deeper  was  the  emotion,  when  the 
father  of  these  two  ministers  himself  long  the 
esteemed  pastor  of  a  neighboring  township, 
came  forward,  and  solemnly  charged  this  his 
young  son,  to  be  faithful  to  the  high  trust  com 
mitted  to  him,  in  the  presence  of  men,  and  of 
angels. 

Pointing  to  his  predecessor  in  that  pulpit, 
bending  under  the  weight  of  years,  yet  from 
whose  dim  eye  beamed  a  light  that  earth  might 
not  darken,  he  adjured  him  to  "  serve  with  that 
beloved  and  venerated  man,  as  a  son  with  the 
father,  as  Timothy  with  Paul,  the  aged." 


200  FAST      MEEIDIAN. 

.  A  model  of  reverent  and  filial  regard  was 
the  whole  intercourse  of  this  youthful  colleague 
with  the  aged  Shepherd,  until  he  exchanged  his 
pastoral  staff  for  a  "  seat  at  the  Redeemer's 
footstool."  The  Rev.  Dr.  Strong  of  Norwich, 
was  a  man  of  great  benevolence,  and  eminently 
successful  in  preserving  the  unanimity  and  res 
pect  of  his  people.  I  hear  now,  in  memory's 
echo,  the  inflections  of  his  voice,  in  his  wonder 
fully  solemn,  concise  prayers,  or  when  he  com 
forted  the  mourners.  I  imagine  that  I  still  see 
him,  as  he  passed  in  the  streets ;  his  tall  form, 
stately  movement,  the  faultless  neatness  of  his 
costume.  The  rudest  boy  hushed  himself,  and 
grew  demure,  as  he  approached.  At  school  visi 
tations,  he  entered  as  a  superior  being.  We 
children  strove  to  be  perfect  at  our  recitations 
and  maintained  the  most  unexceptionable  de 
meanor  in  his  presence.  A  word  from  him 
was  a  thing  to  be  boasted  of,  and  always  worth 
treasuring.  The  high  respect  paid  in  those 
days  to  the  teachers  of  religion,  was  his  with 
out  a  drawback  ;  so  gentlemanly  was  he  at  all 
times,  so  perfect  in  social  intercourse,  and  in 
life's  hallowed  duties.  Never  for  the  sake  of 
popularity,  did  he  lay  aside  the  dignity  apper 
taining  to  an  ambassador  of  God.  All  his 


AGED      DIVINES.  201 

influence  was  consecrated  on  that  altar  where 
his  heart  was  laid  in  youth.  It  was  sacred 
to  the  good  order,  the  improvement,,  the  pri 
vate  and  public  virtue  of  the  community 
among  whom  his  lot  was  cast.  Thus  he 
continued,  a  benefactor  to  all  around,  until 
in  the  fifty-seventh  year  of  his  ministry,  and 
the  eighty-second  of  his  life,  the  voice  of  griev 
ing  affection  said,  of  him,  "  the  memory  of  the 
just  is  blessed." 

His  fourscore  years, 

Sate  lightly  on  him,  for  his  heart  was  glad, 
Even  to  its  latest  pulse,  with  that  blest  lore, 
Home-nurtured  and  reciprocal,  which  girds 
And  garners  up,  in  sorrow  and  in  joy. 

The  Rev.  John  Tyler  was  the  first  regularly 
settled  clergyman  of  the  Episcopal  church  in 
Chelsea,  the  southern  section  of  my  native  city. 
He  had  been  educated  in  Congregationalism, 
the  prevalent  denomination  of  the  State,  but 
embracing  the  doctrines  of  the  Church  of  Eng 
land,  crossed  the  ocean  in  1768,  to  receive  ordi 
nation,  and  the  following  year  returned,  and 
entered  on  the  duties  of  the  priesthood.  During 
the  war  of  the  Revolution,  when  the  mind  of 
the  whole  country  was  so  embittered  against 
the  Mother  Land,  that  even  her  Liturgy  did 


202  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

not  escape  odium,  his  church  was  closed  for  a 
period  of  three  years ;  but  a  band  of  faithful 
worshippers  gathered  in  his  own  house,  where 
divine  service  was  performed  every  Sunday, 
without  molestation.  So  conciliatory  was  his 
manner,  and  so  consistent  his  piety,  that  when 
the  passions  of  men  ran  highest,  he  was  res 
pected  as  a  true  servant  of  the  Prince  of  Peace. 
Conscientious  and  unshrinking  in  duty,  he  still 
bore  upon  his  life  and  his  brow,  the  motto, 
"  giving  no  offence  in  anything,  that  the  minis 
try  be  not  blamed." 

The  establishment  of  a  new  sect,  in  the  im 
mediate  vicinity  of  others,  long  accustomed  to 
priority  and  power,  requires  both  discretion 
and  tolerance.  These  virtues  seem  to  have 
been  here,  in  mutual  exercise,  from  the  begin 
ning.  Invitations  to  Episcopalians  to  hold 
their  festivals  in  the  more  spacious  Congrega 
tional  meeting-house,  were  repeatedly  given, 
and  cordially  accepted.  At  length  an  instance 
of  reciprocity  occurred  worthy  of  remembrance. 
In  the  year  1794,  a  sweeping  conflagration  de 
stroyed  the  place  of  worship  of  the  Congrega- 
tionalists,  and  the  parish  of  Christ  Church,  in 
sympathy,  voted  to  accommodate  their  bereaved 
neighbors  in  their  own  edifice,  the  pastor  of 


AGED      DIVINES.  203 

each  denomination  officiating  alternately,  one 
half  of  every  Sunday.  This  arrangement  of 
Christian  hospitality  and  courtesy,  subsisted 
for  several  months  in  perfect  harmony,  and 
was  acknowledged  by  a  public  expression 
of  gratitude,  inserted  in  the  records  of  both 
societies. 

Good  Mr.  Tyler,  in  the  benevolence  of  his 
nature,  aimed  to  relieve  bodily  as  well  as 
spiritual  ills,  and  became  so  skillful  in  extract 
ing  the  spirit  of  health  from  the  plants  of  his 
garden,  and  roots  of  the  forest,  as  often  to 
become  the  healer  of  the  suffering  poor. 

In  his  own  family  he  cultivated  the  percep 
tion  and  power  of  melody.  Chanted  hymns 
in  sweet  accordance  hallowed  their  morning 
and  evening  devotions.  Music,  nursing  holy 
thought,  dwelt  among  them  as  a  bird  of 
heaven. 

One  who  observed  the  sweet  countenances 
and  amiable  deportment  of  his  children,  in 
quired  if  he  pursued  any  peculiar  mode  of 
education,  to  produce  so  happy  a  result.  He 
replied : 

"  If  anything  disturbs  their  temper,  I  say  to  them  sing  ;  and 
if  I  hear  them  speaking  against  any  person,  I  call  them  to  sing 
to  me,  and  so  they  seem  to  have  sung  away  all  clouds  of  discord, 
and  every  disposition  to  scandal." 


204  PAST      MEEIDIAN. 

He  was  possessed  of  persuasive  eloquence, 
as  a  preacher,  and  a  voice  singularly  sweet  in 
its  modulations.  With  meekness  he  bowed 
himself  down  to  the  griefs  of  others,  while  his 
devotion  uplifted  and  upheld  them.  It  was 
in  his  silver,  plaintive  tones,  that  I  first  heard 
the  burial  service  of  the  Church  of  England. 
We  stood  by  the  open  grave  of  a  school-mate, 
suddenly  smitten  in  her  young  bloom.  Having 
neither  of  us  brother  or  sister,  we  had  striven 
to  make  up  that  deficiency  to  each  other,  till  a 
great  love  had  sprung  up  between  us.  As 
they  laid  her  fair  head  beneath  the  broken 
summer  turf  and  uprooted  grass-flowers,  that 
tuneful  voice  turned  the  grief  and  the  silence 
into  such  melodies  as  angels  use.  Through  a 
flood  of  childhood's  tears,  I  said  to  my  mother, 
"  Let  that  same  be  read  over  me  when  I  am 
dead." 

Afterwards,  some  of  our  young  band  ac 
counted  it  a  privilege  to  be  permitted  to  take 
a  winter  walk  of  four  miles,  (two  going,  and 
two  returning,)  to  hear  that  godly  man  conduct 
the  solemn  festivities  of  Christmas.  The  last 
time  I  heard  his  voice  of  sweetness,  was  with 
the  emotion  which  has  never  yet  been  transla 
ted  into  words  :  when  the  bride,  about  to  leave 


AGED     DIVINES.  205 

father  and  mother,  stands  by  his  side,  who  is 
to  be  henceforth  "  her  more  than  brother,  and 
her  next  to  God."  When  he  imposed  that  hal 
lowed  vow,  which  Death  alone  can  sever,  he 
was  weak  and  tremulous  with  age. 

On  his  monument,  amid  the  beautiful  com 
bination  of  rocks,  woods  and  waters,  where  so 
long  his  favored  lot  was  cast,  may  be  read  the 
following  inscriptioi 

"  Here  lie  interred,  the  earthly  remains  of  the  Rev.  John 
Tyler,  for  fifty-four  years  Rector  of  Christ's  Church  in  this 
city.  Having  faithfully  fulfilled  his  ministry,  he  was  ready 
to  be  dissolved,  and  to  be  with  Christ.  His  soul  took  its 
flight,  Jan.  20th,  1823,  when  he  had  reached  the  eighty-first  year 
of  his  age." 

Among  other  clergymen  of  the  Episcopal 
Church,  who  have  consecrated  longevity,  and 
faithful  labor,  to  the  benefit  of  one  people,  but 
of  whose  distinctive  lineaments  of  character  I 
am  not  in  possession,  were  the  Rev.  John  Beach, 
who  continued  at  Newtown,  from  his  ordination 
in  1723,  for  half  a  century ;  the  Rev.  Dr.  Bela 
Hubbard,  at  New  Haven,  from  1764,  for  forty- 
eight  years ;  and  the  venerable  Dr.  Mansfield, 
from  1746,  at  Derby,  for  the  unusually  long 
period  of  seventy-four  years,  himself  reaching 


206  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

on  life's  dial-plate,  the  patriarchal  point  of  al 
most  a  century. 

Give  praise  to  God,  from  whom  proceeds 

Each  gift  and  purpose  high, 
Strength  to  the  pastor  wise  and  pure, 
Strength  to  the  aged  to  endure, 

Strength  to  the  saint  to  die. 

The  Rev.  John  Noyes  accepted  the  charge 
of  the  Congregational  church  at  Norn* eld,  or 
Weston,  as  it  is  now  called,  in  1786,  at  the  age 
of  twenty-four.  Emphatically  his  work  was 
his  delight,  and  it  was  said  of  him  that  "  his 
smile  was  without  a  cloud,  like  the  angel  stand 
ing  in  the  sun."  The  love  of  his  people,  as  well 
as  of  an  extensive  circle  of  friends,  followed  him 
through  life,  and  a  part  of  his  eulogy  in  death, 
was,  that  "  he  had  no  enemy."  Having  com 
menced  to  preach  before  his  ordination,  he  had 
been  more  than  sixty  years  engaged  in  the 
ministry,  and  died  at  the  age  of  eighty-four. 
He  gave  a  half  centennial  sermon,  and  pre 
pared  one  for  his  sixtieth  anniversary.  But 
between  his  laying  down  of  the  pen,  and  his 
entrance  into  the  pulpit,  Death  came,  and  the 
valedictory  was  read  by  other  lips.  In  it  he 
mentions,  that  though  ill-health,  occasioned  by 
over-exertion,  had  compelled  him  to  an  interval 


AGED      DIVINES.  207 

from  stated  pastoral  duty,  he  had  "  never  since 
his  ordination,  changed  his  residence."  His 
example  was  in  accordance  with  the  opinion 
that  "  a  long-continued  ministry,  under  the 
same  pastor,  better  promotes  the  stability  of 
the  churches,  the  soundness  of  faith,  and  the 
healthful  growth  of  piety,  than  one  that  is  sub 
ject  to  frequent  and  fitful  changes." 

The  Rev.  Levi  Nelson,  ordained  at  Lisbon, 
at  the  age  also  of  twenty-four,  proved  a  most 
faithful  and  acceptable  laborer  in  the  vineyard 
of  his  Lord.  Truly  he  was  a  man  of  a  sincere 
and  upright  spirit.  In  the  half  century  sermon, 
delivered  to  his  one  only  flock,  he  mentions 
having  given  them  from  the  pulpit,  nearly  five 
thousand  sermons,  and  that  but  one  of  the  com 
municants  who  welcomed  him  at  his  arrival, 
was  then  in  the  land  of  the  living.  Feelingly 
and  reverently  he  thus  alludes  to  the  aged  por 
tion  of  the  congregation,  who  attended  so 
punctually  his  Sabbath  services,  "  not  despis 
ing  his  youth." 

"  Most  of  them  seemed  to  possess  a  deep  tone  of  piety.  To 
this  day,  I  love  to  think  of  their  saintly  appearance  in  the 
House  of  God,  of  the  seats  they  occupied,  and  their  significant 
expression  of  approbation  of  the  word  of  truth." 

Rev.  Dr.  Nathan  Perkins  became  the  minis- 


208  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

ter  at  West  Hartford,  in  1772,  at  the  age  of 
twenty-three.  He  was  a  graduate  of  Princeton 
College,  and  studied  his  profession,  under  the 
venerable  Dr.  Lord,  of  Norwich.  The  people 
had  been  divided  before  his  entrance  among 
them,  and  it  is  no  slight  proof  of  the  discretion 
of  so  young  a  man,  that  following  as  he  did, 
twenty  candidates,  each  of  whom  had  some  par 
tial  adherent,  he  should  concentrate  and  event 
ually  render  permanent,  the  affections  of  the 
whole  people.  More  than  sixty-five  years  did 
he  serve  them,  never  having  been  settled  else 
where,  though  he  declined  other  alluring  calls. 
They  appreciated  his  superior  talents,  his  ready 
zeal  for  their  good,  his  calm,  unaffected  piety. 
His  influence  over  them,  deepened  as  it  was 
by  time,  became  unbounded,  for  his  contempla 
tive,  well  balanced  mind,  being  capable  of  ruling 
itself,  had  the  inherent  power  of  ruling  others. 
Mild  in  his  temperament,  and  friendly  to 
life's  innocent  enjoyments,  those  who  had  been 
favored  with  intimate  intercourse,  said  they  had 
never  seen  him  moved  to  anger. 

Whenever,  and  wherever  his  people  desired 
to  hear  the  truths  of  the  gospel,  he  was  ready 
to  address  them,  either  in  church  or  in  school- 
house.  Cherishing  the  love  of  literature,  and 


AGED     DIVINES.  209 

learning,  for  which  he  was  early  distinguished, 
he  delighted  in  the  instruction  of  youth,  and 
aided  many  in  their  preparatory  classical  train 
ing,  as  well  as  in  theological  studies. 

His  manners  were  admirably  adapted  to  win 
and  maintain  reverence  both  of  young  and  old. 
He  possessed  a  high-toned  self-respect,  a  sensitive 
ness  to  clerical  propriety  in  the  smallest  things, 
yet  softened  by  Christian  urbanity,  and  graced  by 
the  politeness  of  a  gentleman  of  the  old  school. 
One  who  had  known  him  from  boyhood  says : 

"  The  impression  stamped  deep  upon  my  soul,  from  the 
entire  being,  spirit,  and  conduct  of  that  man,  is  reverence  for 
the  Christian  ministry,  and  unbounded  honor  for  the  gospel  of 
Jesus  Christ." 

He  was  a  clear  writer,  and  a  pleasant  per 
suasive  speaker.  In  his  distinct,  deliberate 
utterance,  every  word  was  audible,  and  every 
thought  had  its  full  force.  He  preached  a  fif 
tieth  and  sixtieth  anniversary  sermon,  and  in 
reviewing  the  national  changes  which  he  had 
witnessed,  remarks : — 

"  I  have  lived  to  see  great  revolutions  in  the  world,  in  our 
own  country,  in  commerce,  and  in  mediums  of  trade.  I  have 
seen  the  evils  of  war, — my  native  Land  bleeding  at  every  pore, 
and  the  prospect  darker  than  midnight  gloom.  I  have  seen  the 
mighty  conflict  that  achieved  our  independence.  I  have  seen 


210  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

the  time  of  framing  a  national  constitution  of  government,  when 
all  wise  men  and  able  statesmen  trembled." 

The  compensation  of  his  services  was  small, 
one  hundred  pounds  annually ;  but  being  in 
possession  of  a  considerable  patrimonial  for 
tune,  he  was  enabled  by  prudence  to  indulge 
the  promptings  of  benevolence.  These  were  a 
part  of  his  nature. 

"  I  am  determined,"  said  he,  "  that  though  I  may  die  a  poor 
man,  I  will  die  a  generous  one." 

His  practice  was  uniform  with  this  resolu 
tion.  In  contrasting  the  blessedness  of  giving, 
with  that  of  receiving,  he  remarked  : 

"  I  have  always  wondered,  why  Avarice,  proceeding  on  its 
own  plan  of  accumulating  to  itself  the  greatest  quantity  of  good, 
never  adopted  benevolence  as  the  basis  of  its  action." 

He  occupied  but  one  abode,  a  parsonage 
which  he  himself  purchased, — large,  plain,  com 
modious,  peacefully  overshadowed  by  trees,  and 
not  inconsistent  with  simple  elegance.  Thither, 
in  his  prime  of  manhood,  he  led  a  gentle  bride 
of  seventeen,  the  daughter  of  a  neighboring 
clergyman.  A  proficient  was  she  in  that  house 
hold  science  which  ensures  comfort  and  com 
mands  respect,  and  also,  in  the  higher  lore  of 


AGED      DIVINES.  211 

living,  earnest  piety.  There,  while  sixty-three 
years  drew  over  them,  they  exhibited  in  beau 
tiful  fidelity,  all  the  conjugal  and  paternal 
virtues. 

In  that  mansion,  it  was  once  my  privilege  to 
see  them.  Eighty-six  years  had  he  numbered, 
yet  his  stately  form  yielded  not  to  time,  and 
the  silver  hair  receding  from  his  broad  crown^ 
floated  lightly  and  gracefully  down  the  temples 
toward  the  shoulders.  I  was  charmed  with  his 
affability  and  dignity,  and  his  saintly  words  of 
the  life  to  come.  She  too,  the  sharer  and  height- 
ener  of  all  his  joys,  was  still  of  a  comely  as 
pect,  cheerful,  and  full  of  Christian  courtesy. 
Scarcely  ever  in  her  long  life  had  she  been 
so  ill  as  to  commit  to  other  hands  the  do 
mestic  policy  that  she  understood  and  loved. 
But  at  last,  sickness  came.  Pulmonary  con 
sumption,  with  its  fiery  shaft,  and  suffocating 
pang,  smote  her.  Many  months  she  endured 
that  wasting  agony,  until  the  "  bones  that  were 
not  seen,  stood  out." 

Full  of  tender  sympathy,  yet  as  one  amazed, 
the  aged  servant  of  God  regarded  her,  who  had 
so  long  been  the  light  of  his  home,  and  heart. 
Like  the  Apostle  Elliot,  it  seemed  not  to  have 
occurred  to  him,  that  the  fresher  spirit,  the 


212  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

younger  yoke-fellow,  should  be  first  summoned. 
But  he  took  his  stand  beside  her,  to  strengthen 

/  o 

her  while  she  suffered  the  will  of  God.  By 
her  bed,  he  studied  and  wrote  his  sermons,  and 
when  she  saw  his  noble  brow  radiant  with  holy 
thought,  she  uplifted  her  faith  and  followed  him. 
He  spoke  blessed  things  to  her  of  the  Redeemer 
of  Man,  patient  unto  death,  till  she  Jforgot  her 
pain.  Night  and  day  he  girded  himself  afresh 
from  the  armory  of  heaven,  that  he  might  up 
hold  her,  who  battled  more  and  more  feebly 
with  the  Destroyer.  Into  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death,  as  far  as  mortal  foot  might 
go,  he  followed  her. 

When  all  was  over  he  repined  not.  His 
mourning  was  subdued,  like  the  servant  who 
reveres  his  Lord's  will.  But  the  charm  of 
earth  was  broken. 

"  To  the  afflicted  she  was  always  sympathizing,"  said  the 
bereaved  husband,  "  to  benefactors,  thankful ;  to  those  in  want, 
beneficent ;  studying  the  peace,  harmony,  and  good  of  all  under 
my  pastoral  care ;  she  lived  beloved,  and  died  lamented,  in  the 
full  hope  of  a  blessed  immortality." 

When  the  falling  leaf  was  taking  its  first 
autumnal  tint,  she  departed.  Every  day  after 
ward,  however  deluged  the  earth  might  be 
with  rain,  or  drifted  with  snow,  that  aged  man 


AGED      DIVINES.  213 

went  to  spend  a  little  time  at  her  grave.  Every 
day, — except  that  which  God  had  set  apart  for 
his  own  worship ;  then  he  felt  that  his  duties 
as  an  ambassador  of  heaven,  were  higher  than 
his  private  griefs.  Four  months  passed,  and 
soon  after  the  dawning  of  the  New  Year,  as  he 
was  on  his  way  to  the  sanctuary,  a  messenger 
invisible  to  mortal  eye,  met  him,  and  said, 
"  Come  up  higher."  Ere  the  next  Sabbath,  he 
was  laid  by  her  side. 

Manifestly  was  his  prayer  answered  that 
he  might  not  outlive  his  usefulness.  Till  his 
eighty-ninth  year  he  was  fit  for  faithful  service. 
Only  five  days  did  the  failing  flesh  hold  the 
spirit  from  its  home.  During  that  period  he 
spoke  not.  Paralysis  of  the  throat  was  his 
form  of  dismission.  But  with  the  eye  and  the 
smile  of  one  ready  for  a  glorious  existence,  he 
held  communion  with  those  around,  and  rec 
ompensed  the  daughter,  who  leaving  her  own 
family,  came  and  took  care  of  him  with  the 
tenderest  love.  Perchance,  in  that  pause  of 
silence,  the  waiting  soul,  disengaging  itself  from 
the  love  of  earth,  was  better  fitted  to  join  the 
great  song  of  the  redeemed. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Calvin  Chapin,  was  ordained 
at   Rocky    Hill,  in    1794,  where   he  continuec 


214  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

fifty-seven  years,  until  his  death,  which  took 
place  within  a  few  months  of  his  eighty-eighth 
birth-day.  His  naturally  strong  constitution 
had  derived  additional  vigor  from  an  agricul 
tural  training,  the  first  twenty  years  of  his  life 
having  been  spent  on  the  paternal  farm.  The 
same  habits  of  zealous  industry  transferred  to 
scholastic  study,  caused  him  to  excel  in  that 
department.  His  attainments  were  afterwards 
deepened  and  matured  by  passing  two  years 
as  the  instructor  of  a  school  in  Hartford, 
and  nearly  three  as  a  tutor  in  Yale  Col 
lege.  He  had  great  fondness  for  the  em 
ployment  of  imparting  knowledge, — and  al 
ways  referred  with  pleasure  to  the  period  of 
time,  thus  devoted. 

He  pursued  theological  studies  with  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Perkins  of  West  Hartford,  and  entered  on 
ministerial  duty,  with  a  deep  sense  of  responsi 
bility  to  his  Divine  Master. 

"  I  am  not  aware,"  said  he, — "  that  in  preparing  a  sermon,  I 
ever  inquired  what  would  please  or  displease  the  people.  What 
is  immutable  truth  ?  What  do  sinners  need  ?  What  do  Chris 
tians  need  ?  What  is  the  preaching  which  Christ  directs  and 
will  bless  ?  Such  has  been  my  rule.  Preaching  should  be  ear 
nest  talk." 

In  corporate  bodies,  in  the  formation  of 
religious  societies,  in  the  promotion  of  philan- 


AGED      DIVINES.  215 

thropy,  his  efforts  were  conspicuous  and  his 
decisions  respected.  This  prominence,  and  the 
appreciation  that  attended  it,  caused  frequent 
applications  to  change  his  place.  Some  of 
these  were  attractive,  with  regard  to  perquisite, 
and  personal  ambition.  Among  them,  was  the 
offer  of  the  presidency  of  two  colleges.  But 
the  principle  of  pastoral  constancy  was  strong 
within  him.  He  agreed  in  opinion  with  his 
venerable  friend,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Marsh  of  Weth- 
ersfield,  who  continued,  a  faithful  and  beloved 
pastor  to  the  verge  of  fourscore,  at  one  post  of 
duty, — that  "  he  should  as  soon  think  of  leav 
ing  his  wife,  as  his  people." 

He  was  a  man  of  intense  and  versatile  in 
dustry.  Though  a  thorough  scholar,  and  de 
lighting  in  books,  he  knew  how  to  use  his 
hands  to  good  purpose.  He  had  constructive- 
ness  in  the  management  of  tools,  arid  kept  some 
thirty  acres  of  land  in  profitable  culture.  He 
was  skillful  in  the  production  of  fine  fruits  • 
and  twigs  grafted  by  himself  were  favorite 
gifts  to  friends.  Now,  as  large,  thrifty  trees, 
they  keep  in  memory,  by  their  annual  harvest, 
him,  who  was  still  more  earnest  to  set  in  the 
mental  soil,  the  plants  of  righteousness. 

He  had   the   power   of  turning   from    one 


216  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

employment  to  another,  without  rupturing 
trains  of  thought.  Order,  economy,  and  the 
unities  of  time  and  place,  seemed  inherent 
habitudes  of  his  mind.  A  full  flow  of  spirits 
pervaded  his  whole  course  of  action.  Yet,  he 
was  inured  to  physical  suffering,  notwithstand 
ing  his  vigor  of  frame.  Acute  rheumatism  was 
one  of  his  maladies ;  fever  and  ague,  taken 
during  a  missionary  tour  at  the  West,  taught 
him  its  fearful  alternations ;  and  asthma,  his 
foe  from  childhood,  so  annoyed  him,  that  some 
times  in  the  night  he  left  his  chamber,  and 
mounting  his  horse,  rode  for  miles,  to  parry  the 
sense  of  suffocation.  At  others,  he  would 
spend  whole  nights  in  his  study,  overruling 
by  reading  and  writing  the  consciousness  of 
painv  and  striving  to  turn  his  broken  rest  to 
advantage.  He  was  one  of  the  few  who  re 
quired  slight  refreshment  from  sleep,  seldom 
more  than  six  hours  out  of  twenty-four ;  and 
never  lying  down  to  rest  in  the  day.  He  was 
not  inclined  to  allude  to  his  ailments,  but  what 
he  could  not  conquer,  endured  with  resolution, 
and  singular  cheerfulness. 

"  Tell  about  low  spirits  ?  "—he  would  say — "  For  shame  !— I 
prosecute  my  work,  without  regarding  any  of  these  things." 

My  own  impression  of  him,  from  a  single 


AGED      DIVINES.  217 

unceremonious  interview,  was  that  of  a  man 
who  mingled  with  whatever  he  did  the 
strength  of  a  happy  heart,  and  who  influenced 
others,  not  only  by  innate  power  and  piety, 
but  by  the  simple  truthfulness  of  his  words, 
and  the  genial  spirit  of  his  manners. 

His  domestic  virtues  and  enjoyments  were 
delightful.  A  daughter  of  the  younger  Pres 
ident  Edwards,  whom  he  won  in  the  bloom 
of  seventeen,  for  more  than  half  a  century  was 
his  chief  earthly  joy.  Four  years  before  his 
own  departure,  and  when  he  was  himself 
nearly  eighty-four,  she  was  called  to  eternal 
rest. 

"  She  made  my  home,"  said  he,  "  the  pleasantest  spot  on 
earth.     Now  she  is  gone, — my  worldly  lo«s  is  perfect." 

Yet  still  with  cheerfulness,  and  those  habits 
of  industry  that  sought  the  good,  for  this  life 
and  the  next,  of  all  around,  he  lightened  his 
lot  of  loneliness.  He  counted  it  a  high  privi 
lege  that  he  was  enabled  to  be  profitably  occu 
pied  until  life's  close.  Though  relieved  from 
the  weight  of  pulpit  cares,  he  attended,  as 
usual,  divine  service  the  Sunday  preceding 
his  death ;  employed  himself  industriously  till 
the  close  of  the  week,  and  after  a  slight  indispo- 

10 


218  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

sition,  seated  in  his  chair,  passed  without  a 
sigh  to  that  heavenly  world,  which  his  satisfied 
spirit  so  calmly  contemplated. 

Sweetly  has  he  given  his  suffrage  of  old  age, 
that  period  often  so  unwisely  dreaded,  and  un 
justly  delineated. 

"  Having  retired  from  every  official  demand  abroad,  without 
the  shadow  of  embarrassment  at  home,  and  consequently  finding 
myself  perfectly  at  leisure,  I  yet  seem  never  to  have  been  in  my 
life  so  busy.  My  often  expressed  opinion  is,  that  notwithstand 
ing  the  decays  that,  unperceived  by  myself,  I  know  age  must  be 
steadily  producing,  I  never  enjoyed  existence  better.  In  my 
chamber,  I  dwell  as  in  a  paradise.  Here  too,  I  am  certain,  the 
Infinite  Mind  is  always  accessible." 

But  the  patriarch  among  the  pastors  of  his 
native  State,  was  the  Rev.  Dr.  Samuel  Nott 
of  Franklin.  That  pleasant  agricultural  town 
ship,  formerly  an  appendage  of  Norwich,  and 
called  its  West  Farms,  had  become  disturbed 
in  the  exercise  of  its  religious  polity.  Two 
ministers  had  been  dismissed,  and  numerous 
candidates  presented  themselves  in  the  pulpit, 
without  securing  unanimity  of  choice.  At  length, 
in  1782,  a  young  man  of  a  serious  and  pleasing 
aspect  stood  there,  by  request,  addressing 
them  from  the  inspired  passage,  "  I  ask 
therefore,  with  what  intent,  ye  sent  for  me." 
Verily,  a  good  intent.  And  a  good  result. 


AGED     DIVINES.  219 

Seventy  years  of  faithful  service, — until  those 
bright  locks  should  be  white  as  the  almond- 
tree. 

He  adds  another  to  the  many  instances, 
where  a  delicate  constitution  and  feeble  health 
in  youth,  are,  by  prudent  care  and  the  divine 
blessing,  led  to  increased  strength,  and  decided 
longevity.  Probably  such  rewards  are  more 
likely  to  ensue,  than  where  native  vigor  de 
pends  arrogantly  upon  itself.  During  the  first 
years  of  his  ministry,  he  found  it  expedient  to 
confine  himself  to  a  diet  of  milk,  yet  withdrew 
from  no  ministerial  effort,  parochial  visit,  or 
duty  to  his  household.  In  his  half-century  ser 
mon  he  mentions  that  he  had  been  withheld 
by  indisposition,  from  the  public  services  of  the 
sanctuary  but  six  Sabbaths  for  that  whole  pe 
riod.  He  speaks  of  six  hundred  and  ten  graves, 
over  whose  tenants  he  had  performed  the  fune 
ral  obsequies,  in  six  of  which  slumbered  his 
own  children. 

I  remember,  in  early  days,  to  have  seen  him, 
more  than  once,  in  the  pulpit  of  my  own  minis 
ter.  He  was  tall,  and  of  a  grave  aspect,  and 
his  words  were  searching  and  solemn.  In  my 
simplicity  I  likened  him  to  an  ancient  prophet ; 
methought  to  the  one  who  cried,  "  Stand  ye  in 


220  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

the  ways,  and  see,  and  ask  for  the  old  paths, — 
where  is  the  good  way,  and  walk  therein,  and 
ye  shall  find  rest  to  your  souls/' 

With  his  clerical  toil,  he  mingled  occasional 
participation  in  the  cares  of  instruction,  prepar 
ing  a  number  of  young  men  for  college,  and  su 
perintending  the  studies  of  others  who  were  to 
enter  the  ministry.  Feeling  deeply  the  value 
of  education,  as  those  are  prone  to  do  who  de 
fray  its  expenses  "by  their  own  exertions,  he  had 
given  pecuniary  aid  in  such  measure  as  he  was 
able,  to  between  two  and  three  hundred  who 
were  striving  to  earn  its  benefits.  These  char 
ities,  with  the  thorough  nurture  of  his  own 
children,  and  the  materials  of  comfort  for  his 
family,  required,  amid  restricted  means,  the 
most  judicious  use  both  of  time  and  money. 

Self-denial  was  a  part  of  his  religion.  In 
this  respect,  he  both  taught  and  exemplified 
that  the  "  disciple  need  not  be  above  his  Lord." 
Doubtless  this  virtue  has  something  to  do  with 
growth  in  grace,  as  well  as  with  consistency  in 
a  spiritual  guide  ;  allowing  no  room  for  compe 
tition  in  show  or  extravagance,  for  indolence  or 
luxurious  indulgences  that  war  against  the  soul. 
"  By  economy,  industry,  and  the  divine  bless 
ing,"  says  this  primitive  pastor,  "  I  have  never 


AGED     DIVINES.  221 

even  nominally  been  expensive  to  my  people, 
beyond  the  original  contract.  My  salary  is 
$333  ;  about  $230  by  individuals,  and  twelve 
loads  of  wood  annually,  were  kindly  added.  I 
have  seen  the  time  when,  as  far  as  compensation 
was  concerned,  I  might  have  changed  my  situa 
tion  advantageously.  Yet,  though  it  has  been 
so  common,  especially  of  late  years,  or  ministers 
and  people,  either  from  necessity,  or  a  restless 
disposition  to  part,  I  have  nevertheless  thought 
it  my  duty  to  abide  at  the  post  where  I  was 
first  stationed." 

The  simple  but  rare  morality  of  avoiding 
debt,  and  the  higher  philosophy  that  "  made 
his  wish  with  his  estate  comply,"  were  features 
in  his  Christian  example,  worthy  of  imitation 
and  praise.  In  consistence  with  these  princi 
ples,  and  illustrating  all  the  virtues  of  a  cheer 
ful,  deep-rooted,  and  self-sustaining  piety,  life 
drew  on,  amid  the  harmony  and  love  of  his 
flock,  until  he  approached  his  ninety-ninth 
birthday.  From  the  grave,  we  seem  to  listen 
to  that  venerated  voice,  repeating  its  time-hon 
ored  counsels. 

"  Dear  friends,  you  have,  each  of  you,  your  day,  your  sphere 
of  usefulness.  You  can  live  but  once.  Let  the  world  be  the 
better  for  you,  while  you  do  live." 


222  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

Still  continuing  to  search  in  the  annals  of 
Connecticut  for  those  divines  who  have  con 
nected  faithful  service  with  longevity,  we.  find 
the  names  of  Rev.  Dr.  Joseph  Bellamy,  of  Beth 
lehem  ;  Rev.  Dr.  Joseph  Whitney,  of  Brook 
lyn  ;  Rev.  Noadiah  Russell,  of  Middletown ; 
Rev.  Ammi  R.  Robbiris,  of  Norfolk ;  Rev. 
Daniel  Dow,  of  Thompson ;  Rev.  Thomas  Can- 
field,  of  Roxbury ;  Rev.  Peter  Starr,  of  Warren ; 
as  having  labored  for  fifty  years,  or  more,  with 
out  change,  at  a  single  post  of  duty.  The  tomb 
stone  of  the  Rev.  Frederick  W.  Hotchkiss,  of 
Say  brook,  records  that  his  death  took  place  at 
fourscore,  after  having  been  pastor  of  one 
church  for  sixty  years. 

Yet  not  alone,  to  olden  times,  or  the  mem 
ory  of  departed  worthies,  do  we  turn  for  such 
honored  testimonies.  They  are  found  in  our 
own  days,  and  among  living  witnesses.  The 
Rev.  Dr.  Joab  Brace  delivered  an  interesting 
discourse  at  Newington,  recapitulating  his  la 
bors,  and  the  mutations  of  fifty  years  ;  as  have 
also,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Abel  McEwen,  of  New  Lon 
don,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Noah  Porter,  of  Farm- 
ington,  the  latter  of  whom  continues  his  pas 
toral  services.  Numerous  instances  might  be 
cited  where,  for  thirty  and  forty  years,  the 


AGED     DIVINES.  223 

shepherd  has  guided  in  green  pastures,  and 
beside  still  waters,  the  same  trusting  flock. 

A  complete  catalogue  has  not  been  attempt 
ed.  The  space  at  my  command  would  not  ad 
mit  of  it.  In  pursuing  the  interesting  research 
how  far  the  duties  of  a  spiritual  teacher  were 
favorable  to  longevity,  the  theory  involuntarily 
presented  itself,  that  continuance  in  one  sphere 
of  action,  or  the  habitudes  that  are  involved  in 
that  continuance,  may  possess  a  conservative  in 
fluence.  In  the  narrow  circle  which  has  been 
contemplated,  evidence  seems  to  have  been  ad 
duced,  that  this  "  patience  of  hope  "  has  been 
often  rewarded  by  prolonged  capacities  for  the 
"  labor  of  love."  It  might  appear  that  avoiding 
to  untwine  and  break  the  tendrils  of  holy  affec 
tion,  had  given  vitality  to  the  vine,  and  sparing 
to  pour  the  "  oil  of  the  sanctuary  "  from  vessel 
to  vessel,  aided  the  frail  lamp  longer  to  burn. 

I  am  not  aware  that  my  native  State  trans 
cends  others  in  the  number  of  these  beautiful 
instances  of  God's  goodness,  and  man's  constan 
cy.  I  have  selected  it,  because  the  materials 
were  more  readily  available. 

It  is  pleasant  from  other  localities  to  select 
a  few  examples  of  clerical  usefulness,  freshly 
surviving  amid  the  winter  of  life.  The  Rev. 


^24  PAST     MEKIDIAN. 

Dr.  Eliphalet  Nott,  a  brother  of  our  Nestor  of 
Connecticut,  sustains,  at  a  very  advanced  age, 
the  office  of  president  of  Union  College,  Schen- 
ectady,  N.  Y.,  though  its  more  onerous  duties 
have,  of  late,  been  divided  with  another.  For 
more  than  half  a  century,  he  has  wisely  and 
successfully  conducted  the  interests  of  that  im 
portant  scholastic  institution,  having  had  under 
his  charge  several  thousand  students.  His 
knowledge  of  human  nature,  and  unbounded 
forbearance  for  the  errors  of  youth,  have  been 
signally  recompensed  by  their  enduring  filial  at 
tachment.  He  was  early  distinguished  for  pul 
pit  eloquence ;  and  that  he  retains  the  power 
of  a  forcible  and  lucid  writer,  is  proved  by  an 
edition  of  his  "  Counsels  to  Young  Men,"  en 
riched  by  additions  from  his  pen — a  valuable 
and  valued  contribution  to  octogenarian  litera 
ture. 

One  of  our  periodicals  records  the  interest 
ing  circumstance  that  a  pulpit  in  Salem,  Mass., 
was  occupied  on  the  Sabbath,  by  two  aged 
brothers,  the  Rev.  Brown  Emerson,  its  own 
minister,  in  his  seventy-eighth  year — and  the 
Rev.  Reuben  Emerson,  of  South  Reading,  in 
his  eighty-fourth,  both  of  whom  have  been  in 
the  exercise  of  pastoral  duty  for  more  than  half 


AGED     DIVINES.  225 

a  century.  On  this  occasion,  the  usual  services 
were  combined  with  the  administration  of  the 
sacrament,  and  the  admission  to  that  ordinance 
of  a  number  of  new  communicants.  The  entire 
exercises  were  conducted  by  these  venerable 
men,  with  a  remarkable  degree  of  physical 
vigor  and  mental  fervor.  The  youngest 
having  some  slight  indisposition,  it  was  ob 
served  that  the  older  brother  was  assiduous  to 
relieve  him,  and  to  assume,  wherever  it  was 
possible,  the  heavier  portion  of  the  toils  of  the 
day. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Thomas  C.  Brownell,  senior 
bishop  of  the  United  States,  has  presided  almost 
fifty  years  over  the  Episcopate  of  Connecticut. 
He  has  long  made  Hartford  his  residence,  and 
though  unable,  from  feeble  health,  to  discharge 
the  sacred  duties  of  his  station,  the  tones  of  his 
tremulous  voice  are  still  a  melody  to  all  who 
hear  them. 

His  principal  published  writings  are  a  large 
"  Family  Commentary  on  the  Prayer  Book," 
and  the  "  Eeligion  of  the  Heart  and  Life,"  a 
work  in  five  volumes,  presenting  the  condensed 
opinion  of  many  distinguished  divines,  on  the 
highest  interests  of  the  soul.  In  his  introduc 
tion,  he  remarks : 
10* 


226  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

"  Man  has  affections  to  be  matured  and  improved,  as  well  as 
an  intellect  to  be  enlightened.  It  is  not  enough,  therefore,  that 
his  mind  embrace  sound  doctrinal  views  of  Christianity ;  his 
heart  must  be  aifected  by  these  doctrines,  and  renewed  by  their 
influence,  and  the  effects  of  this  renovation  must  be  made  mani 
fest  in  a  pure  and  holy  life." 

His  wise  and  conciliatory  counsels  have  re 
markably  resulted  in  the  harmony  of  his  dio 
cese.  In  his  address,  at  a  recent  convention, 
after  speaking  of  the  infirmities  of  age,  and 
meekly  reviewing  his  long  spiritual  administra 
tion,  he  says : 

"  I  am  not  conscious,  in  all  that  period,  of  having  cherished 
unkind  feelings  to  any  clergyman  in  my  diocese,  or  of  having 
uttered  unkind  language  to  any  one.  Neither  am  I  conscious 
that  any  one  has,  by  thought  or  word,  manifested  unkiudness 
towards  me.  This  is  a  source  of  unmingled  satisfaction, — and 
if  the  present  should  be  our  last  meeting,  I  feel  that  we  shall 
part  in  peace  and  mutual  charity." 

A  blessed  suffrage.  Long  may  the  beauty 
of  his  venerable  presence  and  serene  example 
remain  among  us. 

The  Rev.  Lincoln  Ripley — a  resident  of 
Maine — until  almost  an  hundred  enjoyed  com 
fortable  health,  and  occasionally  participated  in 
pastoral  duty.  A  brother  of  his  retained  his 
ministerial  charge  in  Massachusetts  for  more 
than  half  a  century,  until  his  death,  at  the  age 


AGED     DIVINES.  22? 

of  ninety.  This  whole  family  present  a  distin 
guished  instance  of  longevity.  It  originally 
comprised  nineteen, — eight  sons  and  eleven 
daughters,  all  of  them  children  of  one  pious, 
painstaking  mother.  Of  this  large  circle,  ten 
surpassed  the  limits  allotted  to  the  life  of  man  ; 
five  lived  beyond  eighty,  and  three  beyond 
ninety  years.  Of  the  last  named  trio,  one  of 
the  sisters  is  mentioned  in  the  succeeding  chap 
ter  of  this  work,  as  illustrating  the  happy  use 
fulness  that  may  comport  with  great  age :  and 
three  of  the  brothers,  who  selected  the  pastoral 
office  in  youth,  faithfully  consecrated  to  its  du 
ties  their  heritage  of  days. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  T.  M.  Cooley,  of  Granville, 
Mass.,  was  a  native  of  that  romantic  and  almost 
Alpine  region,  where,  as  a  servant  of  God,  he 
labored  for  more  than  sixty  years,  until  he  ap 
proached  his  eighty-fourth  birthday.  His  first 
sermon,  after  receiving  license  to  preach,  was 
delivered  in  that  place  of  his  birth,  where  he 
was  persuaded  to  take  spiritual  charge  of  a  con 
gregation,  comprising  father  and  mother,  grand 
parents,  and  many  gray-haired  people ;  though 
he  accounted  himself  with  humility,  as  "  but  a 
babe  in  Christ."  Very  happy  was  that  long 
connection.  Its  fiftieth  jubilee  was  affectionate- 


228  PAST      MEKIDIAN. 

ly  observed,  and  its  festive  ceremonies  and  ad 
dresses  preserved  in  the  form  of  an  interesting 
little  book.  The  pastor,  in  his  recapitulatory 
discourse,  speaks  of  his  interest  in  the  supervi 
sion  of  schools,  and  his  labors  as  a  practical 
teacher,  adding — 

"  Eight  hundred  pupils  have  received  instruction  from  my 
lips,  preparatory  for  college  and  for  business,  sixty  of  whom 
have  already  entered  the  ministry." 

On  his  eightieth  birthday,  he  said  to  his 
people,  that  he  could  "  hear,  see,  and  speak 
with  the  facility  of  early  manhood,  and  had 
never  been  confined  to  his  bed,  or  his  room,  by 
-sickness,  a  single  day,  for  threescore  and  four 
teen  years." 

Long  after  that  period,  he  continued  to  read 
without  the  aid  of  spectacles  and  to  maintain 
epistolary  intercourse  with  the  pen  of  a  ready 
writer,  and  a  fair,  clear  chirography,  which  put 
to  shame  the  fashionable  illegibility.  At  the 
request  of  his  attached  parishioners,  the  sixtieth 
anniversary  of  his  marriage  was  celebrated. 
Four  generations  gathered  in  gladness  around 
the  venerated  pair,  gratulatory  letters  from  the 
absent  accumulated,  while  the  pleasant  reunion, 
enlivened  by  music,  and  consecrated  by  prayer, 


AGED      DIVINES.  229 

formed  one  of  the  bright  resting  places  for 
memory. 

In  the  earlier  stages  of  his  ministry,  a^de- 
tachment  from  his  church  and  people  departed, 
amid  tears  and  blessings,  to  form  a  colony  in 
central  Ohio.  Forty-six  days  of  weary  travel, 
through  what  was  then  an  unbroken  wilder 
ness,  brought  the  emigrants  to  their  new  home. 
Beneath  a  spreading  tree,  through  whose  almost 
leafless  boughs  the  winds  of  November  made 
bleak  accompaniment  to  their  strains  of  praise, 
they  held  their  first  Sabbath  worship.  But,  in 
less  than  half  a  century,  this  daughter  sur 
passed,  in  vigorous  beauty,  the  mother  whose 
name  she  bore,  and  extended  a  warm  invitation 
to  her  first  and  aged  pastor  to  pay  her  a  visit. 
Disregarding  distance,  fatigue,  and  the  weight 
of  years,  he  undertook  the  journey.  The  pious 
joy  with  which  he  looked  upon  this  branch  of 
his  planting,  the  enthusiasm  with  which  he  was 
welcomed,  his  earnest  and  eloquent  efforts  to 
build  them  up  in  the  faith  of  the  blessed  gospel, 
gave  to  this  patriarchal  visitation  an  unique 
and  almost  apostolic  character. 

The  Rev.  Daniel  Waldo,  at  the  age  of  nine 
ty-three,  officiated  as  chaplain  to  Congress,  dis 
charging  the  duties  of  that  sacred  office  with 


230  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

zeal  and  acceptance.  He  enjoyed  the  extensive 
national  library,  the  varied,  intellectual  society, 
and  other  advantages  of  his  unsought  position, 
with  the  earnestness  of  early  manhood.  Three 
years  later,  I  met  him  at  the  bi-centennial  cele 
bration  of  the  settlement  of  Norwich,  Conn., 
and  remarked,  with  pleasure,  his  animated  man 
ner,  elastic  movements,  and  promptness  in  ex 
temporaneous  speaking. 

After  passing  his  one  hundredth  birthday, 
he  conducted  the  Sabbath  service,  and  preached 
to  a  large  and  interested  audience  in  the  church 
of  the  Rev.  Dr.  William  B.  Sprague,  of  Albany, 
who  impressively  described  his  appearance,  and 
the  effect  of  the  exercises.  Though  resigning 
the  responsibility  of  parochial  care,  he  enjoyed 
rendering  occasional  aid  in  the  pulpit,  speaking 
with  strong  intonation,  and  a  clear,  distinct  elo 
cution.  His  present  residence  is  in  Syracuse, 
N.  Y.,  where,  approaching  his  one  hundred  and 
second  birthday  (September  12th,  1864),  an  in 
timate  friend  says : 

"  He  seems  as  likely  to  live  as  lie  did  ten  years  ago.  His 
mental  faculties  are  perfect,  but  his  hearing  is  somewhat  im 
paired,  and  his  power  of  vision  almost  destroyed  by  the  growth 
of  a  cataract.  Yet,  notwithstanding  this  deprivation,  he  is 
cheerful  and  sociable,  perfectly  reconciled  to  his  lot,  and  appar 
ently  in  as  full  enjoyment  of  life,  as  any  person  around  him. 


AUED     DIVINES.  231 

He  is  mentally  as  able  to  conduct  services  in  the  pulpit  as  ever, 
having  a  large  number  of  sermons  stored  in  his  memory,  and 
able  to  command  any  one  of  them  at  pleasure.  His  amanuensis 
is  a  granddaughter,  who  acts  toward  him  the  part  of  a  good 
angel,  and  to  whom  he  is  wonderfully  attached." 

One  of  the  oldest  active  ministers  in  New 
England,  and  probably  in  the  world,  was  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Sawyer,  of  Maine,  who,  when  the  har 
vest-moon  of  1856  filled  her  horn,  completed  his 
century.  Seventy-five  years  had  he  been  an  as 
siduous  servant  in  his  Master's  cause,  and  en 
joyed  almost  uninterrupted  health.  In  his  cen 
tennial  and  patriarchal  dignity,  he  visited  and 
preached  at  his  native  place,  Hebron,  in  Con 
necticut,  which  he  had  left  when  a  boy  of 
twelve,  made  a  tour  in  the  Granite  State, 
beneath  whose  lofty  White  Mountains  he  com 
menced  his  youthful  labors,  wonderfully  retain 
ing  his  ability  to  preach  twice  on  the  Sabbath, 
with  a  clear  voice,  sufficient  to  fill  the  most  spa 
cious  church. 

One  who  heard  him  close  the  exercises  at 
the  commencement  of  a  theological  seminary, 
with  prayer,  mentions  admiringly  his  fine, 
strong  tones,  and  the  earnest  love  with  which 
he  poured  forth,  as  if  from  the  soul's  depths,  his 
reverence  for  God,  his  gratitude  for  a  Saviour, 


232  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

and  his  desires  that  the  gospel  might  irradiate 
every  dark  spot  upon  the  earth. 

"  Not  the  slightest  of  the  attractions  of  the 
house  where  I  was  entertained,"  says  the  rela- 
tor,  "  was  the  society  of  a  model  Christian  gen 
tleman,  Deacon  Adams,  whose  sight  is  not  dim, 
nor  hearing  dull,  nor  natural  force  abated, 
though  he  lacks  only  some  fifteen  years,  to 
bring  him  to  the  date  of  his  aged  minister. 
Twenty  years  more  would  bring  him  to  that  of 
Moses." 

"  After  all,  Moses  would  not  have  seemed  so 
very  old,  down  here  in  Maine.  Father  Sawyer, 
and  Deacon  Adams,  would  not  think  much  of 
his  extra  twenty  or  thirty  years.  Indeed,  from 
a  little  incident  that  occurred,  I  should  think 
that  such  patriarchs  got  quite  accustomed  to 
living.  A  minister  in  his  prime,  said  to  the 
former,  *  If  you  preach  a  sermon  on  your  hun 
dredth  birthday,  I'll  be  there  to  hear  you.' 
'  How  do  you  know  you'll  be  alive  then  ? '  was 
the  quick  repartee  of  that  bright-minded  patri 
arch,  standing  on  the  verge  of  his  second 
century." 

An  interesting  jubilee  was  held  in  the  open 
air,  a  summer  or  two  since,  amid  the  romantic 
scenery  and  wild  mountains  of  Wales,  to  com- 


AGED     DIVINES.  233 

memorate  the  settlement  of  the  Rev.  D.  Wil 
liams,  at  Breconshire.  After  introductory  ser 
vices,  one  of  the  numerous  clergymen  present 
came  forward,  and  requested  his  acceptance  of 
various  appropriate  gifts,  with  the  congratula 
tions  of  their  donors.  Large  additions  to  his 
library,  and  no  inconsiderable  accession  to  his 
salary,  came  on  that  day,  from  the  half-pastoral, 
half  agricultural  people,  where,  for  fifty  years, 
he  has  labored,  with  stainless  reputation,  and 
unwavering  popularity.  Still  hale  and  vigor 
ous,  he  stood  among  them,  able  to  preach  thrice 
on  a  Sabbath  without  fatigue,  and  as  the 
clear  sunlight  beamed  upon  him  through  the 
chequering  branches,  and  the  air,  which  was 
purity  itself,  stirred  his  locks,  he  seemed  the 
personification  of  healthful  and  serene  happi 
ness.  The  people  over  whom  he  presides  have 
had  but  three  clergymen  for  one  hundred  and 
sixty  years,  and  it  is  a  significant  fact  that  they 
have  enjoyed,  during  that  period,  uninterrupted 
peace  and  harmony.  His  amiable  and  pious 
consort,  for  half  a  century  his  helper  and  friend, 
was  not  forgotten,  but  shared  in  the  liberal  to 
kens  and  heart-felt  attentions  of  the  festival. 

Being  what  is  called  in  that  primitive  re 
gion  a  pluralist  pastor,  and  the  country  one  of 


234  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

volcanic  formation,  the  yearly  labor  of  travel 
ling  to  meet  the  necessities  of  his  scattered 
flock  involves  both  fatigue  and  risk.  Yet, 
during  the  2,600  Sabbaths,  which  his  fifty 
years  have  comprehended,  it  was  stated  that  he 
had  never  once  been  disabled  from  preaching, 
or  excused  himself  from  any  call  of  duty.  By 
us,  nurtured  amid  smooth  roads,  or  flying  at 
will  in  the  rail-car,  it  would  be  impossible  to 
conceive  the  toils  of  traversing  that  mountain 
ous  country,  with  its  bridgeless  streams,  its 
foaming  torrents,  its  narrow,  winding,  decliv 
itous  paths,  often  made  invisible  by  mist  and 
snow.  But  no  tempest  has  kept  at  home  on 
the  Sabbath,  or  withheld  from  the  out-door 
gatherings  in  North  or  South  Wales,  the  apos 
tle  of  Breconshire.  To  meet  these  requisitions 
for  half  a  century,  it  is  computed  that  he  must 
have  spent  some  years  in  the  saddle.  Fifteen 
hundred  from  amid  that  sparse  population,  has 
he  gathered  into  the  fellowship  of  his  church. 

A  spectator  of  this  commemorative  festival 
says: 

"  It  was  impossible  to  look  at  him,  surrounded  by  forty  of 
his  younger  brethren  in  the  ministry,  without  mingled  feelings 
of  admiration  and  pious  gratitude.  Physically,  as  well  as  men 
tally,  he  was  formed  for  his  profession.  His  broad  chest,  and 
voice  even  now  powerful,  make  the  utterance  of  hours  easier 


AGED     DIVINES.  285 

to  him  than  breathing  to  many  public  speakers.  His  sermons 
have  been  always  prepared  with  great  care,  and  delivered  with 
unfaltering  fluency,  and  a  glow  of  enthusiasm.  There  he  stood, 
after  a  campaign  of  fifty  years  against  an  evil  world,  with  an 
unblemished  name,  and  lips  whose  eloquence  no  inconsistency 
had  silenced.  Honor  to  the  brave  old  man,  and  praise  to  the 
grace  of  God,  which  has  made  him  what  he  is." 

Though  these  selections  from  the  ranks  of 
aged  divines,  which  are  so  pleasant  to  contem 
plate,  must  be  accounted  rather  as  exceptions, 
yet  their  number  sanctions  the  conclusion  that 
the  sacred  profession  is  not  inauspicious  to 
longevity.  It  would  also  seem,  from  the  inves 
tigation  of  rather  a  limited  sphere,  that  length 
of  days  has  been  more  frequently  attained, 
where  the  excitements  of  change  of  position 
and  the  trial  of  uprooting  pastoral  affections 
had  been  as  far  as  possible  avoided. 

To  many  ancient  servants  of  the  altar,  the 
active  usefulness  of  earlier  days  is  not  accorded. 
Still  is  it  in  their  power  to  benefit  man  and  to 
honor  God.  Rest,  as  well  as  labor,  He  is  able 
to  make  profitable.  The  meekness  with  which 
they  resign  employments  and  efforts  once  so 
dear,  and  the  cheerfulness  with  which  they 
turn  to  remaining  comforts,  are  salutary  exam 
ples  to  the  younger  traveller.  Their  virtues, 
day  by  day,  reiterate  and  make  plainer  on  the 


236  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

map  of  life  the  narrow  way  to  the  celestial  city. 
Their  secret  influence  is  as  a  purifying  breath 
to  the  moral  atmosphere.  By  the  silent  elo 
quence  of  holiness  they  still  lead  in  the  way  of 
righteousness.  The  gentle  and  solemn  memo 
ries  of  many  years  sublimate  their  spirits, 
while  their  chastened  expectations  surround 
them  with  a  deeper  tenderness  of  love. 

No  frost  of  age 

May  blight  their  pure  example,  or  impair 
Those  fruits,  which  'mid  the  tears  and  clouds  of  time, 
Mellow  to  Heaven's  own  hue. 

"  Oh,  how  comely  is  the  wisdom  of  old  men  ! "  says  the  sou 
of  Sirach,  "  much  experience  is  their  crown,  and  the  fear  of  God 
their  glory." 

For  those  who,  sustained  by  blessed  recol 
lections,  calmly  wait  the  Divine  will,  the  meta 
phor  of  a  fine  writer  has  peculiar  significance : 

"  The  years  of  old  age  are  stalls  in  the  cathedral  of  life,  for 
the  gray-haired  to  sit  in,  and  listen,  and  meditate,  and  be  pa 
tient  till  the  service  is  over,  and  so  get  themselves  ready  to  say 
amen  at  last,  with  all  their  hearts  and  souls." 


CHAPTEE   XIV. 


"  Say  !  wherefore  sigh  for  what  is  gone  ? 

Or  deem  the  future  all  a  night  ? 
From  darkness  through  the  rosy  dawn, 

The  stars  go  singing  into  light : 
And  to  the  pilgrim,  lone  and  gray, 

One  thought  shall  come  to  cheer  the  breast, 
The  evening  sun  but  fades  away, 
To  find  new  morning  in  the  west." 

T.  B.  READ. 

IT  is  not  as  easy  to  multiply  instances  of 
remarkable  women,  as  of  aged  divines.  They 
have  dwelt  hidden  amid  the  sanctuary  of  home. 
Drawing  its  curtains,  we  discover  them  here 
and  there.  The  essence  and  crown  of  their  ex 
cellence  was  not  to  have  sought  notoriety. 

Some  have  been  exemplary  in  the  science 
that  promotes  the  comfort  of  home,  some  in 
acts  of  benevolence,  some  in  developments  of 
intellect  or  grace.  Yet,  however,  different  it 


238  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

position,  or  pursuit,  one  point  of  resemblance 
seems  to  have  existed  especially  as  years  ad 
vanced, — that  of  cheerfulness. 

When  a  child,  I  was  so  much  delighted 
with  the  smile  upon  venerable  brows,  as  to 
meditate  making  a  catalogue  of  cheerful  old 
women.  To  me  they  seemed  more  genial  and 
beautiful  than  the  young. 

Women  wish  to  make  themselves  agree 
able.  There  is  no  harm  in  that.  It  is  a 
part  of  their  nature.  But  how  do  they 
expect  to  continue  so  when  the  attractions 
of  youth  forsake  them  ? 

If  they  once  possessed  beauty,  it  may  have 
become  a  matter  of  tradition,  of  which  the  ob 
server  is  incredulous.  The  elegance  of  manners 
for  which  they  were  praised  of  old,  may  now 
be  deemed  antiquated,  for  there  are  fash 
ions  in  manners  as  well  as  in  dress.  What 
are  they  to  do  then,  in  order  to  avoid  being 
disagreeable  ? 

Let  them  make  trial  of  the  temper  that 
looks  on  the  bright  side  of  things.  Let  them 
put  on  the  spectacles  that  discern  the  bright 
side  of  character.  The  smile  of  such  a  tem 
perament  is  always  admired.  There  is  no 
Did  School,  or  New  School  about  that.  Like 


KEMARKABLE      WOMEN.  239 

the  pure  gold  of  patience,  it  grows  brighter 
for  using. 

But  look  ye,  my  compeers  !  Do  not  speak 
anything  against  the  condition  of  age.  Do  not 
discredit  it.  In  no  case,  admit  its  inferiority. 
It  would  be  treachery  in  our  camp.  Declining 
years,  and  indeed  every  stage  of  this  mortal  life 
are  very  much  what  we  choose  to  make  them. 
We  may  go  complaining  all  our  days,  or  sing 
ing  the  heart  song : 

"  Simply  to  ~be 
Is  a  joy  to  me, 
For  which  my  God  I  bless." 

I  have  known  many  of  my  own  sex,  who 
eminently  cultivated  this  sunny  spirit.  Among 
them,  I  think  at  this  moment  of  the  only  sister 
of  Wordsworth,  for  whom  the  voice  of  mourn 
ing  tenderly  went  up  from  the  beautiful  regions 
of  Grassmere  and  Helvellyn.  Amid  exquisite 
scenery,  with  a  soul  attuned  to  all  its  loveliness, 
she  had  walked  arm  in  arm  with  her  loved 
brother  for  more  than  half  a  century.  To  him, 
her  unfailing  cheerfulness  and  refined  taste 
were  priceless  treasures,  and  he  admitted  that 
some  of  the  finest  passages  in  his  poems  were 
suggested  by  communion  with  her.  Destitute 
of  his  reserve  and  taciturnity,  she  had  the 


240  PAST     MEBIDIAN. 

power  of  charming  a  company  of  listeners  by 
her  varied  conversation,  though  entirely  un 
obtrusive,  and  childlike  in  simplicity. 

"  A  true  woman,  is  she  indeed,"  said  Coleridge,  "  in  mind  and 
in  heart.  Her  person  is  such,  that  if  you  expected  to  see  a  pretty 
woman,  you  might  think  her  rather  ordinary, — but  if  you  ex 
pected  to  find  an  ordinary  woman,  you  would  think  her  pretty, 
so  simple  are  her  manners,  so  ardent,  so  impressive,  and  in  every 
motion  her  most  innocent  soul  beams  out  so  brightly." 

A  close  observer  of  Nature,  whose  changes 
she  loved, — benevolent,  affectionate,  and  doing 
good  to  all,  Dorothy  Wordsworth  numbered 
eighty-four  years,  without  a  winter  in  her  heart ; 
and  with  the  sweet  sound  of  Eydal's  falling 
water,  her  pleasant  memory  mingles. 

Social  intercourse  is  among  the  remedies  for 
the  ennui  and  inertie  which  sometimes  attend 
declining  years.  Thus,  Mrs.  Garrick,  the  widow 
of  the  celebrated  actor,  continued  to  be  acces 
sible  and  acceptable  until  ninety-seven ;  and 
Miss  Monckton  at  ninety-four,  through  her  viva 
city  and  good  taste  in  dress,  drew  around  her 
throngs  of  gratified  guests,  in  the  metropolis  of 
England.  Hannah  More,  after  her  removal  to 
Clifton,  in  her  eighty-fifth  year,  was  so  attrac 
tive,  that  the  number  of  her  visitants  was  com 
puted  at  four  hundred  in  the  space  of  three 


REMARKABLE      WOMEN.  241 

weeks.  Her  conversational  powers,  charming 
the  most  elegant  and  refined,  retained  all  their 
freshness  and  brilliancy,  while  her  liveliness  of 
manner  delighted  the  young,  and  the  warmth 
of  Christian  love,  with  the  wisdom  of  her 
writings,  inspired  all  with  affection  and  confi 
dence. 

How  touchingly  does  she  unfold  the  secret 
of  this  cheerfulness,  as  she  approached  the 
close  of  life  : 

"  When  and  whither,  belong  to  Him,  who  governs  both 
worlds.  I  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  trust.  I  bless  God  that 
I  enjoy  great  tranquillity  of  mind,  and  am  willing  to  depart, 
and  be  with  Christ,  whenever  He  shall  call.  I  leave  myself  in 
His  hands  who  doeth  all  things  well." 

"  I  have  seen  the  better  part  of  the  race  of  life,"  said  a  dis 
tinguished  writer,  at  the  age  of  seventy-four.  "  Of  the  little 
that  remains,  I  endeavor  to  make  the  best.  On  the  whole,  I 
am  rather  surprised  that  I  have  scrambled  through  it  as  well  as 
I  have.  That  I  have  lived  on  good  terms  with  so  many  good 
people,  gives  me  about  as  much  pleasure  as  any  other  reflection." 

Philosophers  have  called  woman  the  "  home 
teacher?  If  she  accept  this  distinguished  office, 
she  should  renounce  an  inanimate  and  mourn 
ful  deportment.  The  best  precepts  lose  their 
force  if  lugubriously  uttered.  Aged  people  of 
a  pleasant  countenance  and  cheering  voice  have 
great  power  in  winning  the  affections  of  child- 
11 


242  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

ren.  The  infant  stretches  its  arms  to  its  grand 
parents,  and  little  forms  cluster  around  the  chair 
of  the  silver-haired  story-teller. 

The  gentler  sex  have  a  great  resource  in 
age,  from  their  varieties  of  interesting  do 
mestic  employment,  and  especially  the  uses 
of  the  needle. 

"  I  wish  I  could  sew,"  said  the  Rev.  Sidney  Smith.  "  I 
believe  one  reason  why  women  are  generally  so  much  more 
cheerful  than  men,  is,  because  they  can  work  with  the  needle, 
and  so  endlessly  vary  their  employments.  I  knew  a  lady  or 
rank  who  made  her  sons  do  carpet-work.  All  men  ought  to 
learn  to  sew." 

The  simple  forms  of  feminine  industry  are 
surely  favorable  to  serenity  of  spirit,  as  well 
as  conducive  to  respectability  and  comfort.  A 
lady  of  eighty-four,  in  one  of  the  smaller 
towns  of  Connecticut,  found  great  pleasure 
from  these  unostentatious  pursuits.  During 
one  year,  she  completed  with  her  quiet  knit 
ting-needles,  forty-eight  pairs  of  stockings,  be 
sides  constructing  from  fragments  of  calico,  two 
large  bed-quilts,  one  of  them  comprising  more 
than  three  thousand  separate  pieces,  symmet 
rically  arranged.  These  fabrics  were  princi 
pally  for  the  accommodation  and  relief  of  needy 
persons, — so  that  with  the  peaceful  conscious- 


REMARKABLE      WOMEN.  243 

ness  of  time  industriously  improved,  was  blent 
the  still  higher  satisfaction  of  benevolence. 
Was  not  this  a  gainful  exchange  for  the  lassi 
tude  and  suspicious  sense  of  uselessness,  which 
is  sometimes  permitted  to  gather  like  rust 
over  advanced  years,  or  like  a  cancer  to  eat 
away  their  remaining  vitality  ? 

Still  pursuing  a  course  of  activity  and 
happiness,  in  her  ninety-second  year,  is  Mrs. 
Howe,  of  Great  Valley,  in  the  State  of  New 
York,  a  native  of  New  England.  Her  industry 
and  cheerfulness  are  alike  proverbial.  I  have 
her  photographic  likeness  in  my  Alburn,  strong 
ly  expressive  of  health,  intelligence  and  perfect 
content.  When  ready  to  go  to  the  room  of 
the  artist,  she  was  persuaded  by  her  grand 
children  to  put  on  an  apron  of  checked  blue 
and  white,  which  she  had  herself  spun  and 
woven,  at  the  age  of  eighteen.  A  white  dress 
of  extreme  delicacy,  composed  of  cotton  and 
linen,  and  wrought  in  the  same  manner  by  her 
own  hands,  at  the  same  youthful  period,  she 
has  recently  cut  into  pocket  handkerchiefs,  as 
keepsakes  for  her  descendants. 

"  Always  cheerful  and  lively  is  she,"  says  a 
descriptive  letter,  "  even  jocose  at  times,  and  in 
fact,  good  company  for  young  people.  She  is 


244  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

fond  of  books,  and  keeps  herself  apprised  of 
the  intelligence  of  the  times  by  newspapers, 
reading  for  hours  every  day,  and  always  with 
out  glasses.  She  also  spends  much  time  in 
knitting,  and  prefers  taking  charge  of  her  own 
room,  which  she  keeps  in  nice  order.  She  has 
ever  been  industrious  and  an  early  riser,  and 
likes  to  retire  soon  after  nine.  She  has  reared 
a  family  of  ten ;  five  sons  and  five  daughters, 
all  of  whom  are  in  comfortable  circumstances, 
and  try  to  repay  her  for  the  care  and  hallowed 
precepts  with  which  she  trained  them.  With 
a  bright  smile  overspreading  her  countenance, 
she  says,  '  I  love  my  children  very  much,  they 
are  so  affectionate  and  kind  to  me? 

Mrs.  Baldwin,  a  resident  with  her  son,  the 
Rev.  Joseph  Baldwin  of  Plainfield,  Mass.,  lacks 
but  a  few  months  of  completing  an  entire  cen 
tury.  She  still  repeats  with  pleasure  many 
passages  from  Dr.  Young's  Night  Thoughts, 
and  the  Lyric  Poems  of  Dr.  Watts ;  literature 
that  was  the  favorite  of  her  early  years.  Occa 
sionally  also,  she  sings  the  hymns  and  anthems 
which  were  familiar  in  childhood.  She  enjoys 
divine  worship,  and  participation  in  the  Com 
munion,  when  able  to  attend  church,  and 
hears  with  animated  delight  of  any  increase  of 


REMARKABLE      WOMEN.  245 

religious  feeling  and  principle.  She  has  been 
favored  through  life  with  good  health,  though 
recently  the  faculties  of  sight  and  hearing  have 
become  impaired. 

She  was  for  several  years  a  dweller  under 
the  roof  of  an  elder  son,  the  Rev.  Elihu  Bald 
win,  the  respected  President  of  Wabash  Col 
lege,  Indiana,  and  after  his  lamented  death, 
resided  with  a  daughter,  and  then  with  a 
grand-daughter,  until  returning  to  her  native 
New  England. 

A  lady  who  was  intimately  acquainted 
with  her,  until  her  removal  to  the  East,  says 
graphically  : 

"  She  was  up  in  the  morning  with  the  early 
dawn,  singing  in  a  low  sweet  voice  as  she  ad 
justed  her  room,  which  she  chose  to  do  herself, 
and  moving  about  the  house  with  a  quick, 
light  step,  and  a  happy  face.  She  has  always 
led  a  very  active  life,  taking  upon  herself  the 
entire  management  of  domestic  affairs,  in  the 
houses  of  both  her  daughter  and  grand 
daughter,  having  many  doubts  of  their  ability 
in  such  matters,  but  having  entire  confidence 
in  her  own.  She  never  indulged  in  fretfulness 
or  complaining,  but  accomplished  with  the 
most  cheerful  energy  much  which  they  might 


246  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

have  preferred  that  she  had  left  undone,  or  allow 
ed  the  servants  to  perform.  The  changes  and 
innovations  of  modern  times,  often  so  trying 
to  the  aged,  she  generally  bore  with  exemplary 
submission,  yet  it  was  a  trial  to  her  perfect 
neatness  and  order  to  see  the  parlor  tables 
covered  with  books  and  pictures,  which  she 
thought  should  be  placed  in  their  legitimate 
departments,  and  shielded  from  dust.  She 
frequently  apologized  for  this  apparent  dis 
order  to  visitants,  adding  that  it  was  not  her 
fault  that  the  tables  were  strewed  with  such 
incumbrances." 

Now,  though  the  almost  one  hundred  win 
ters  that  have  passed  over  her  abridge  her  ac 
tive  participation  in  the  concerns  of  housekeep 
ing,  she  is  ready  to  lend  her  counsel  and  expe 
rience,  and  continues  to  amuse  herself  with  the 
quiet  employment  of  knitting. 

Those  of  our  sex  who  have  attained  great 
longevity,  though  they  may  have  widely  dif 
fered  in  education  and  position,  appear  to  have 
held  in  common  two  possessions,  cheerfulness 
and  industry.  Constantly  they  seem  to  have 
kept  in  view  the  old  Arabian  proverb,  "  the 
idle  are  not  to  be  classed  among  the  living ; 
they  are  a  peculiar  kind  of  dead,  who  can  never 
be  buried." 


EE  MASKABLE     WOMEN.  247 

A  part  of  the  regimen  that  promotes  cheer 
fulness  may  be  thus  simplified  : 

Make  the  best  of  everything, 
Think  the  best  of  everybody, 
Hope  the  best  for  yourself. 

Aged  women  of  a  sunny  spirit  retain  a 
decided  influence  on  those  around  them.  Lady 
Strange,  whose  husband  did  so  much  for  the 
encouragement  of  the  fine  arts  in  England, 
somewhat  more  than  a  century  since,  so  far 
from  underrating  what  time  had  spared,  thus 
remarks  in  a  letter  to  one  of  her  female 
friends. 

"  My  health  is  excellent.  My  cheeks  have  still  some  bloom. 
I  have  two  of  my  own  teeth,  and  several  brown  hairs  in  my 
head.  I  might  have  been  able  to  dance  at  any  of  my  children's 
weddings.  Is  not  this  a  tolerably  satisfactory  condition  at 
eighty-four  ? 

During  the  long  absences  of  Sir  Eobert 
from  his  native  land  in  the  earlier  years  of 
their  union,  she  zealously  and  economically 
took  charge  of  a  large  family,  bringing  up 
the  boys  with  a  judicious  energy,  and  cheering 
her  husband  by  the  pen  to  "  endure  as  patient 
ly  as  possible  the  privations  of  absence.  Keep 
fully  in  mind  all  the  blessings  that  you  enjoy. 
Weak  health  may  be  helped,  if  due  care  is 


248  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

attended  by  cheerfulness,  that  best  of  medicines. 
Cheer  up  your  heart,  our  situation  has  still 
many  causes  of  thankfulness  to  God." 

After  her  death,  which  took  place  at  her 
own  house,  in  her  88th  year,  it  was  said  by  an 
accurate  judge,  that  "  at  this  late  period  she 
retained  all  the  activity  of  a  vigorous  mind, 
that  her  lively,  interesting  conversation  would 
be  remembered  and  regretted  by  a  large  circle 
of  acquaintance,  and  that  she  continued  to  unite 
the  vivacity  of  youth  to  the  dignity  of  age. 
Her  whole  life  was  usefully  employed  for  the 
benefit  as  well  of  her  own  family,  as  that  of 
those  in  whom  she  took  a  benevolent  interest. 
Equally  distinguished  was  she  by  purity  of 
morals,  and  integrity  of  principles,  as  for  excel 
lence  of  understanding." 

Yet  it  is  not  necessary  to  cross  the  ocean, 
or  explore  foreign  lands  for  examples  of  women 
who  have  illumined  long  life  by  an  unclouded 
spirit.  Many  such  will  be  readily  recalled, 
and  among  them  one,  over  whom  the  tomb  has 
but  recently  closed,  Madam  Susan  Johnson,  of 
Stratford,  Connecticut. 

"  I  had  visited  her,  only  a  little  time  before  her  death,"  said  a 
friend,  "  in  the  lovely  village  of  her  residence.  In  the  full  enjoy 
ment  was  she  of  every  faculty  at  the  advanced  age  of  eighty- 


REMARKABLE       WOMEN.  249 

four.  She  retained  an  unimpaired  memory  and  kept  up  a  con 
stant  and  elegant  correspondence  with  her  friends,  until  within 
a  few  days  of  her  death.  She  was  looking  toward  approaching 
spring  with  pleasant  anticipation,  for  though  life's  winter  was 
upon  her,  she  delighted  in  the  carol  of  birds,  and  the  changing 
beauties  of  every  season,  watching  them  as  in  by-gone  days, 
and  sharing  cheerfully  the  joys  of  those  around  her  as  in  times 
of  old." 

Quite  recently  also,  has  passed  away,  Mrs. 
Abigail  Leonard,  of  Abington,  Connecticut,  hav 
ing  almost  reached  her  ninety-third  birthday. 
She  retained  her  physical  and  mental  powers 
in  healthful  action  until  life's  close.  She  was 
fond  of  reading  and  conversing,  and  nourished 
her  activity  by  a  habit  of  performing  some  use 
ful  labor  every  day.  Industry  was  her  enjoy 
ment.  Many  tokens  of  this  has  she  left  among 
friends  and  acquaintances,  as  pleasant  memorials. 
They  can  show  the  garments  and  other  articles 
she  took  such  pleasure  in  making  while  still 
among  them.  A  Christian  Dorcas  was  she,  and 
her  works 'praise  her.  Ever  amiable  and  bright- 
spirited,  she  delighted  to  converse  on  cheering 
and  instructive  themes,  and  especially,  as  she 
drew  near  her  final  transition,  to  speak  to  her 
Pastor  high  and  holy  words  of  that  country 
where  she  was  to  find  a  home,  and  of  those 
skies  which  have  no  need  of  either  sun  or  moon 

to  give  them  light. 
11* 


250  PAST      .MERIDIAN. 

Among  those  matrons  who  have  nobly  sus 
tained  the  hardships  of  settling  our  new  Wes 
tern  States,  was  one  who  emigrated  during  the 
last  century  to  the  wilds  of  Illinois.  A  large 
family  did  she  bring  up,  and  extended  the  help 
ing  hand  and  loving  smile  to  her  great  grand 
children  even  to  the  v.erge  of  fourscore.  A 
model  was  she  of  useful  industry.  Scarcely 
ever  would  you  see  her  seated,  without  a 
needle,  or  knitting-needles  in  busy  exercise. 
By  her  side,  also,  on  a  little  table,  were  ever 
lying  her  Bible,  pen  and  ink.  For  the  last 
thirty  years  of  life,  her  spirit  was  so  much 
soothed  by  the  melody  of  rhyme,  that  she  sel 
dom  passed  a  day  without  composing  a  few 
verses.  She  never  mentioned  them  to  others, 
but  linked  the  harmonies  of  thought  and 
sound,  of  which  the  following  is  a  specimen, 
as  a  source  of  solitary  satisfaction,  and  a  sweet 
ener  of  the  spirit. 

"  All  eye??  on  one  Creator  wait, 

The  rich,  the  poor,  the  mean,  the  great, 

The  ignorant,  and  wise, 
All  on  one  common  father  call, 
The  universal  Lord  of  all, 

Sovereign  of  earth  and  skies. 

"  Yet  how  ungrateful  mortals  prove, 
To  him  who  is  the  Lord  of  Love, 
Nor  trace  the  hand  Divine ; 


REMARKABLE      WOMEN.  251 

O'erlook  the  guardian  love  and  care, 
Nor  render  praise  nor  offer  prayer, 
Forgetful  they  are  thine. 

"  Lord,  may  this  thought  be  deep  imprest 
Upon  the  tablets  of  my  breast, 

Thy  mercies  still  my  song 
At  sober  eve,  at  morning  light, 
And  through  the  watchful  hours  of  night, 

I  would  the  theme  prolong. 

"  Dear  to  my  soul  shall  be  thy  praise ; 
Tho'  poor  and  weak  the  song  I  raise 

It  would  to  Thee  aspire, 
Teach  me  to  pray,  to  praise,  adore, 
To  love,  to  reverence  more  and  more, 

Impart  celestial  fire." 

Mrs.  Esther  Edwards,  of  Windsor,  Connecti 
cut,  illustrated  somewhat  more  than  a  century 
since,  what  woman  may  perform  in  her  own 
peculiar  province,  with  an  unbroken,  unclouded 
spirit.  Having  accepted  in  early  youth  the 
station  of  the  wife  of  a  pastor,  she  imbibed  the 
idea  that  it  was  her  duty  to  release  him  wholly 
from  all  participation  in  domestic  care.  To  her 
high-toned  and  unselfish  mind,  it  seemed  that 
he  who  had  undertaken  the  guidance  of  immor 
tal  souls,  ought  not  to  be  annoyed  by  the  daily 
questions  of  earth,  "  what  shall  we  eat  ?  what 
shall  we  drink  ?  and  wherewithal  be  clothed  ? " 
On  this  principle  she  commenced  and  continued 


252  PAST     MEBIDIAN. 

to  act.  Neither  was  it  a  quiet  utterance  of  "  be 
ye  warmed,  and  be  ye  filled ; "  nor  the  simple 
ordering  of  obedient  servants,  that  could  ac 
complish  her  purpose.  In  village  life,  such  was 
then  the  equality  of  condition,  that  the  help  of 
subordinates  was  not  easily  obtained,  or  to  be 
habitually  depended  upon.  Every  repast,  and 
every  garment,  must  have  not  only  the  provid 
ing  thought,  but  the  aiding  hand  of  the  mis 
tress  ;  the  minister's  family  must,  of  course,  be 
a  pattern  to  all,  and  his  restricted  salary  was 
expected  to  sustain  a  free  hospitality.  The 
thoroughness  of  New  England  housekeeping, 
and  the  determination  to  avoid  all  pecuniary 
indebtedness,  which  was  then  an  essential  part 
of  every  honest  education,  involved  both  per 
sonal  labor  and  rigid  economy.  Head,  hands 
and  feet  were  alike  taxed. 

Yet  nothing  daunted,  she,  who  in  these 
days  would  have  been  counted  in  age  but  as 
a  school  girl,  came  modestly  and  bravely  for 
ward,  girded  with  the  love  of  her  husband, 
and  the  fear  of  God.  Blessed  with  a  good 
physical  constitution,  and  a  superior  intellect, 
she  failed  not,  fainted  not.  The  simplicity  of 
primitive  times  favored  her,  which  required 
no  elaborate  costume,  or  ceremonious  visit- 


REMARKABLE      WOMEN.  253 

ing,  or  luxurious  appointment.  Hence,  she 
Lad  more  time  for  the  training  of  her  many 
children,  which  she  deemed  of  unspeakable 
importance.  She  moved  among  them  as  a 
spirit  of  life  and  light.  Kequiring  of  them 
that  implicit  obedience  which  was  the  first 
lesson  of  life  in  the  olden  time,  she  looked 
upward  for  the  wisdom  she  needed  for 
their  future  guidance,  wearing  on  her 
brow  the  sweet  trustful  spirit  of  the  sup 
plication  ;  "  Lead  me  to  the  rock  that  is 
higher  than  I." 

Her  illustrious  son,  President  Edwards, 
who  was  educated  at  home  until  his  entrance 
at  college,  in  recording  his  filial  obligations, 
delighted  to  pay  her  a  tribute  of  heartfelt 
praise.  It  has  been  remarked  by  some  of  his 
biographers,  that  intercourse  throughout  the 
whole  of  scholastic  training  with  mother  and 
sisters,  the  latter  of  whom  also  pursued  a 
course  of  study  under  their  father's  super 
vision,  contributed  to  the  benignity  and  do 
mestic  tenderness  that  mingled  with  his 
strength  of  intellect.  Ten  daughters  well 
instructed,  and  fitted  to  perform  whatever 
appertains  to  woman's  sphere,  attested  her 
maternal  fidelity.  During  her  sixty-three 


254  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

years  of  conjugal  duty,  she  never  neglected 
mental  improvement,  or  sacrificed  progress  in 
knowledge.  On  these  she  depended  still  more 
for  solace  after  the  eclipse  of  widowhood  fell 
upon  her  heart  and  house.  For  a  very  long 
period  it  had  been  her  custom  to  keep  upon 
her  parlor-table  a  Bible,  with  some  standard 
works  of  History,  Biography  and  Theology, 
divested  of  controversy.  Thither,  at  a  specified 
hour  of  each  afternoon,  came  the  neighboring 
ladies,  both  old  and  young.  First,  a  passage 
of  Scripture  was  read,  then  a  portion  of  the 
volume  which  was  in  consecutive  perusal, 
which  their  revered  friend  and  guide  inter 
spersed  with  remarks  or  illustrations,  readily 
suggested  by  her  extensive  knowledge,  or  pro 
found  experience.  The  happy  influence  of 
such  a  habit  on  the  intelligence  of  those 
around,  it  is  not  easy  to  compute ;  and  many 
in  the  morning  of  life,  referred  their  first 
serious  impressions  to  words  thus  falling  from 
those  aged  lips. 

Looking  with  a  cheerful  temper  upon  every 
creature,  and  all  mutations  below,  her  life 
drew  on,  in  usefulness  and  honor,  to  the  ex 
treme  period  of  ninety-nine  years.  Its  wheels 
moved  with  music,  until  they  were  "broken 


REMARKABLE      WOMEN.  255 

at   the   cistern,  and   the   golden   bowl "   filled 
with  the  waters  of  immortality. 

Modifications  of  physical  infirmity  are  prone 
to  attend  advancing  years.  They  should  be 
expected,  and  if  not  welcomed  as  guests,  serene 
ly  tolerated.  There  is  often  amid  these  decays 
a  kind  of  compensation  in  the  dealings  of 
Nature,  a  giving  on  one  side,  for  what  she 
takes  on  the.  other. 

"  I  am  delighted,"  said  an  eminent  physician,  "  with  this  rheu 
matism  in  my  knee,  for  now  some  other  complaints  that  I  had 
will  vanish  before  it.  We  constantly  perceive  in  the  course  of 
our  medical  practice,  one  disease  counteracting  or  destroy 
ing  another,  so  that  the  superintending  care  and  wisdom  of 
God  is  as  manifest  in  the  theory  of  indisposition,  as  in  that 
of  health." 
1  ^ 

This  occult  science  is  but  too  little  studied, 
and  the  laws  of  health,  with  that  cloudless 
spirit  which  is  the  sister  of  health,  are  too 
often  neglected.  Still,  were  I  permitted,  with 
full  scope,  and  a  free  pencil  to  enter  the 
gallery  of  living  portraits,  many  might  be 
selected  where  silver  hairs,  and  a  furrowed 
forehead,  are  in  unison  with  dignity,  cheer 
fulness,  and  grace. 

I  think  at  this  moment  of  one,  from  whom 
the  Atlantic  divides  us,  in  whom  these  linea- 


256  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

ments  are  strikingly  prominent.  Mad.  Rotch, 
a  native  of  our  own  clime,  but  a  resident  by 
marriage,  for  more  than  half  a  century,  in  the 
Mother  Land,  retains  at  ninety- four,  not  mere 
ly  the  capacity  of  pleasing  and  being  pleased, 
but  undiminished  delight  in  domestic  and 
social  duties.  That  practical  science  which 
promotes  the  comfort  of  home,  she  still  pur 
sues  as  a  source  of  happiness,  and  notwith 
standing  her  great  age,  regularly  adds  to  her 
household-book  the  items  of  daily  expenditure, 
as  in  her  vigorous  prime.  In  conversation, 
she  evinces  remarkable  sprightliness,  and  even 
brilliance  of  repartee.  Her  fine,  erect  per 
son  seems  to  be  rendered  more  attractive 
by  the  perfect  neatness  and  simplicity  of 
costume  peculiar  to  the  sect  of  Friends,  of 
which  she  is  a  member.  Her  naivete,  with 
the  kindness  of  which  it  is  an  expression, 
charms  the  young,  and  promotes  good-humor 
in  all  around. 

Her  charities  are  constantly  active,  both 
in  liberal  bounties,  and  those  slighter  sun 
beams  that  brighten  the  current  of  human 
life.  During  her  walks  in  those  parks  that 
revivify  the  great  heart  of  London,  it  is 
delightful  to  see  her  distributing  to  the 


KEMARKABLE      WOMEK.  257 

children  whom  she  meets  some  appropriate 
gift,  lighting  up  the  wondering  smile  upon 
their  innocent  faces ;  or  pausing  to  counsel 
the  nurses,  in  what  position  to  carry  their 
infant  charge,  so  as  least  to  constrain  their 
delicate  limbs,  and  heighten  as  much  as 
possible  the  benefits  of  air  and  exercise. 
Love  of  the  little  ones,  so  frequently  an  ele 
ment  of  happy  old  age,  is  a  conspicuous  trait 
in  her  nature,  and  may  be  traced  in  the  fol 
lowing  extemporaneous  morceau,  sent  with  the 
Christmas  gift  of  a  thimble,  to  one  of  her  juve 
nile  descendants : 


"  Dear  Minnie,  'tis  a  pleasant  thing 

To  ply  the  busy  thimble  ; 
I  fancy  I  can  see  you  now, 

With  fairy  fingers  nimble 
Preparing  for  your  doll  a  dress, 

Against  the  Christmas-day ; 
When  we  appear  in  all  our  best, 

Why  should  not  she  be  gay  ? 

Your  Grandmamma,  from  her  arm-chair, 

The  distance  scarcely  measures, 
But  often  in  a  fancy-flight 

Visits  her  living  treasures, 
Pleased  to  enjoy  their  cheerful  smiles, 

Or  hear  their  laughter  hearty, 
And  then  to  No.  8  returns, 

To  welcome  her  own  party." 


258  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  those  who  are  con 
strained  to  feel  the  decays  of  time,  should  add 
a  voluntary  evil,  that  of  mental  depression. 
This  tendency  they  ought  at  all  points  to 
resist.  If  they  are  compelled  to  resign  the 
"  harp  and  organ,"  and  the  full  voice  of  their 
youthful  minstrelsy,  have  they  not  still  some 
humbler  instrument  of  joy,  which  they  can 
attune  to  the  chorus  of  God's  praise  ? 

In  their  efforts  to  preserve  a  happy  equi 
librium  of  spirits,  they  should  have  aid  from 
those  around.  Younger,  fresher  sentinels 
should  keep  watch  with  and  for  them.  Self- 
derogation  is  their  besetting  sin.  Pleasant 
statements  of  passing  incidents  should  be 
daily  made  them,  to  nourish  the  life  of  sym 
pathy,  and  keep  it  in  healthful  connection 
with  the  outer  world.  Has  the  eye  grown 
dim  ?  Let  the  interesting  page  be  rendered 
vocal  by  lips  of  love.  Has  the  ear  become 
wearied  ?  Let  the  sweetly  distinct  elocution, 
with  a  sustained  but  not  too  elevated  tone, 
keep  the  heart  from  relapsing  into  solitude 
and  silence. 

The  young  are  not  aware  what  a  charm 
such  attentions  and  services  cast  around  them. 
The  higher  class  of  minds  are  more  moved 


REMARKABLE      WOMEN.  259 

by  them  than  by  the  brief  blaze  of  beauty. 
An  accomplished  gentleman  and  critical  ob 
server,  on  his  return  from  foreign  travel,  was 
asked  to  which  of  the  fair  ladies  whom  he 
constantly  met  in  elegant  society,  he  should 
give  the  preference.  He  designated  one  who, 
among  the  reigning  belles,  had  no  distinction, 
giving  as  a  reason — 

"  She  is  sweetly  attentive  to  her  hoary  and  sickly  grand 
mother.     She  will  make  a  good  wife." 

Smiles  and  words  of  approval  are  medi 
cines  to  the  aged.  They  are  not  in  danger 
from  flattery,  as  at  earlier  periods  of  life.  They 
are  often  painfully  unassured  of  their  acceptance 
with  the  new  generation  among  whom  they  lin 
ger  as  pilgrims  and  strangers.  To  suggest  a 
becoming  costume,  or  notice  whatever  is  agree 
able  in  conversation  or  style  of  manner,  gives 
them  confidence  in  their  social  relations.  To 
refer  to  their  opinion  or  advice,  is  useful  in 
keeping  their  judgment  in  exercise,  as  well  as  a 
proper  tribute  to  their  experience.  Above  all, 
never  permit  them  to  believe  that  their  counsel, 
or  company,  are  of  little  account.  This  gives 
strength  to  their  chief  temptation.  The  belief 
that  they  are  considered  supernumeraries,  drives 


260  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

them  to  become  superannuated.  I  hope  no 
filial  heart  may  be  moved  to  compunction  by 
the  following  graphic  sketch  from  a  maternal 
pen : 

Not  long  since,  a  comely  man,  scarcely  past  his  prime,  in 
quired  at  our  door  for  the  clergyman.  He  appeared  disappoint 
ed  and  anxious,  at  hearing  that  he  was  out  of  town,  and,  on 
being  questioned,  replied — 

"  I  have  lost  my  mother.  As  this  place  used  to  be  her  home, 
and  my  father  is  buried  here,  we  came  to  lay  her  beside  him." 

"  You  have  met  with  a  great  loss,"  I  said,  moved  by  sym 
pathy. 

"Well, — why,  yes;"  answered  the  man.  "A  mother,  in 
the  general  way,  is  a  great  loss.  But  ours  had  outlived  her 
usefulness.  She  was  in  her  second  childhood.  Her  mind  got 
to  be  as  weak  as  her  body,  so  that  she  was  no  comfort  to  her 
self,  nor  to  anybody  else.  There  are  seven  of  us,  sons  and 
daughters.  We  could  not  find  anybody  who  was  willing  to 
board  her,  so  we  agreed  to  keep  her  among  us,  a  year  apiece. 
But  I  had  more  than  my  share  of  her,  for  she  was  too  feeble  to 
be  moved,  when  my  time  was  out;  and  that  was  more  than 
three  months  before  her  death.  She  had  been  a  good  mother 
in  her  day,  and  worked  very  hard  to  bring  us  all  up." 

Without  looking  in  the  face  of  the  heartless  man,  I  directed 
him  to  a  neighboring  pastor,  and  returned  to  my  nursery.  I 
gazed  on  the  little  faces  that  smiled  or  grew  sad  in  imitation 
of  mine,  and  wondered  if  the  day  would  ever  come  when  they 
should  say  "  She  has  outlived  her  usefulness.  She  is  no  com 
fort  to  herself  and  a  burden  to  everybody  else."  God  forbid 
that  we  should  outlive  the  love  of  our  children  ! 

When  the  bell  tolled  for  this  poor  mother's  obsequies,  I  went 
to  the  sanctuary  to  pay  the  only  token  of  respect  in  my  power 
to  the  aged  stranger,  for  I  felt  that  I  could  give  her  memory  a 


REMAKKABLE      WOMEN.  261 

tear,  though  the  money-grasping  children,  to  whom  she  had 
ceased  to  be  profitable,  might  perchance  have  none  to  shed. 

Mournfully  and  long  spoke  out  the  church-bell,  till  its  iron 
tongue  had  chronicled  the  years  of  the  toil-worn  mother.  Re 
verberating  through  our  quiet  forests,  and  echoing  from  hill  to 
hill,  the  knell  continued  until  we  had  counted  eighty-nine. 

Eighty -nine  !  there  she  lies  in  her  coffin,  still  and  cold.  She 
'makes  no  trouble  now,  demands  no  love,  no  soft  words,  no  ten 
der  little  offices.  A  look  of  patient  endurance,  we  fancied  also 
an  expression  of  grief  for  unrequited  love,  sat  on  her  marblf 
features.  Her  children  were  there,  clad  in  weeds  of  woe,  and 
in  irony  we  remembered  the  strong  man's  words,  "  She  was  P 
good  mother  in  her  day." 

When  the  bell  ceased  tolling,  the  strange  minister  rose  ir 
the  pulpit.  His  form  was  very  erect,  and  his  voice  strong,  but 
his  hair  silvery  white.  He  read  several  passages  of  Scripture, 
expressive  of  God's  compassion  to  feeble  men,  and  especially  of 
his  tenderness  when  gray  hairs  are  on  him,  and  his  strength 
faileth.  He  made  some  touching  remarks  on  human  frailty, 
and  dependence  on  God,  urging  all  present  to  make  their  peace 
with  Him  while  in  health,  that  they  might  claim  his  promises 
when  heart  and  flesh  should  fail  them.  Leaning  over  the  desk, 
and  gazing  intently  on  the  coffined  form  before  him,  he  then 
said,  reverently,  "  From  a  little  child  I  have  honored  the  aged ; 
but  never  till  the  gray  hairs  covered  my  own  head,  did  I  know 
truly  how  much  love  and  sympathy  this  class  have  a  right  to 
demand  of  their  fellow-creatures.  Now  I  feel  it.  Our  mother," 
he  added,  most  tenderly,  "  who  now  lies  in  death  before  us,  was 
a  stranger  to  me,  as  are  all  these,  her  descendants.  All  I  know 
of  her  is  what  her  son  has  told  me  to-day — that  she  was  brought 
to  this  town  from  afar,  sixty-nine  years  ago,  a  happy  bride; 
that  here  she  passed  most  of  her  life,  toiling  as  only  mothers  ever 
have  strength  to  toil,  until  she  had  reared  a  large  family  of  sons  and 
daughters ;  that  she  left  her  home  here,  clad  in  the  weeds  of 
widowhood,  to  dwell  among  her  children  ;  and  that  till  health 
and  vigor  left  her,  she  lived  for  her  descendants. 


262  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

"  You,  who,  together,  have  shared  her  love  and  her  care, 
know  how  well  you  have  requited  her.  God  forbid  that  con 
science  should  accuse  you  of  ingratitude  or  murmuring,  on  ac 
count  of  the  care  she  has  been  to  you  of  late.  When  you  go 
back  to  your  homes,  be  careful  of  your  words  and  your  exam 
ple  before  your  own  children,  for  the  fruit  of  your  doing  you 
will  surely  reap  from  them,  when  you  yourselves  totter  on  the 
brink  of  the  grave.  I  entreat  you,  as  a  friend,  as  one  who  has 
himself  entered  '  the  evening  of  life,'  that  you  may  never  say, 
in  the  presence  of  your  families  nor  of  heaven,  '  Our  mother  has 
outlived  her  usefulness — she  is  a  burden  to  us.'  Never,  never ; 
a  mother  cannot  live  so  long  as  that !  No  ;  when  she  can  no 
longer  labor  for  her  children,  nor  yet  care  for  herself,  she  should 
fall  like  a  precious  weight  on  their  bosoms,  and  call  forth  by 
her  helplessness  all  the  noble,  generous  feelings  of  their 
natures." 

Is  it  to  he  supposed  that  there  is  in  our 
country  a  disposition  to  deny  the  just  claims 
of  age  ?  We  are  not  willing  to  admit  so  grave 
a  charge  upon  a  Christian  people.  Whatever 
would  seem  to  countenance  it,  probably  arises 
from  the  over-excited  energies  and  haste  of  a 
young  nation,  intent  to  be  rich,  which,  amid  its 
countless  inventions,  hazardous  enterprises,  and 
insatiate  accumulation,  overlooks  the  lone  and 
the  silent,  the  slow  in  speech,  and  the  slow  of 
action. 

N.  P.  Willis,  from  whose  graceful  pen  we 
have  heretofore  quoted,  thus  feelingly  remarks 
on  this  part  of  our  subject : 


KEMABKABLE     WOMEN.  263 

"  The  neglected  portion  of  the  great  American  family  is  old 
age — we  are  sorry  to  say.  Not  that  we,  as  a  nation,  are  disre 
spectful  to  the  old,  or  that  they  are  denied  or  grudged  any 
thing.  We  perform  the  negative  duty  to  them,  by  avoiding  all 
which  shall  occasion  them  offence  or  deprivation ;  but  we  do 
not  perform  the  positive  duty  of  assiduously  seeing  that  they 
occupy  always,  and  only,  the  places  of  honor  and  prominence  ; 
nor,  more  particularly,  do  we  study  to  contrive,  untiringly  and 
affectionately,  how  to  comfort,  strengthen,  cheer,  and  recuperate 
them.  An  old  man  in  one  house  may  have  his  chair  in  the 
drawing  room,  and  his  place  at  the  table,  and  be  listened  to 
when  he  speaks,  and  obeyed  when  he  commands.  But  in  an 
other  house  he  will  have  his  easy  chair  cushioned  and  pil 
lowed,  and  his  arm-chair  at  the  table,  and  the  cook  will  be 
busied  most  with  what  will  newly  nourish  or  refresh  his  more 
delicate  appetite ;  while  all  listen  first  for  his  words,  and  ad 
dress  conversation  to  him  as  a  centre,  and  eagerly  seek  for  his 
commands  as  an  authority.  This  (we  assure  the  reader,  from 
our  well-weighed  observation  in  both  countries)  is  a  fair  pic 
ture  of  the  difference  between  old  age  in  America  and  old  age 
in  England.  We  have  been  sad  to  admit  this  to  the  comment 
ing  traveller. 

"It  is  an  unconscious  fault  in  our  country — an  oversight  of 
our  life  too  busy,  our  attention  too  overtasked,  and  our  plans 
of  home  and  pleasure  too  unsettled  and  immature.  But  the 
feeling  for  better  things  is  in  us.  Time  will  bring  it  into 
action." 

What  remains,  therefore,  for  this  interval, 
during  which  the  country  is  getting  ready  to  do 
its  duty,  for  the  aged  in  general,  and  for  old 
women  in  particular,  to  make  themselves  of  as 
much  consequence  as  they  can  ?  If  this  is  a 
busy,  calculating  age,  lejfc  them  bring  a  drop  or 


264  PAST     MEBIDIAN. 

two  of  honey  to  the  hive,  and  they  will  be  the 
more  regarded.  If  they  may  not,  as  formerly, 
spread  the  wing,  On  wide  excursions,  they  can 
cheerily  greet  the  working-bees,  when  they 
come  laden  home,  and  tell  the  young  ones 
where  the  white  clover  grows.  Habits  of  use 
fulness,  varied  according  to  the  necessities  of 
their  position,  and  an  agreeable  demeanor,  may 
be  still  their  own.  In  the  exercise  of  these, 
they  will  find  comfort,  until  they  rise  to  a  high 
er  estate. 

It  might  be  in  accordance  with  the  spirit  of 
thrift  that  prevails  in  a  new  country,  to  repre 
sent  cheerfulness  as  a  matter  of  loss  and  gain. 
Low  spirits  are  decidedly  unprofitable.  They 
unhinge  the  nervous  system.  They  are  losses 
in  the  balance-sheet  of  life.  "  Discontent,"  says 
an  ancient  writer,  "  casts  a  cloud  over  the  mind. 
It  occupies  it  with  the  evil  that  disquiets,  in 
stead  of  the  means  by  which  it  is  to  be  re 
moved/' 

Among  things  to  be  avoided  by  a  woman 
of  advanced  age,  are  vain  regrets.  "  Would 
that  I  were  young  again  ! "  is  the  wish  some 
times  uttered  by  lips  that  might  be  better  em 
ployed.  It  has  been  well  treated  by  a  Scottish 
lady,  Caroline  Baroness  Nairn,  in  the  following 


REMARKABLE      WOMEN.  265 

lines,  written  after  she  had  attained  her  seven 
ty-sixth  year,  and  must  therefore  be  admitted 
as  competent  to  judge  of  the  question  thus  ex 
amined  : 

Would  you  be  young  again  ? 

So  would  not  I — 
One  tear  to  memory  given, 

Onward  I'll  hie : 
Life's  dark  flood  forded  o'er, 
All  but  at  rest  on  shore, 
Say,  would  you  plunge  once  more, 

With  home  so  nigh  ? 

If  you  might,  would  you  now 

Retrace  your  way  ? 
Wander  through  stormy  wilds, 

Faint  and  astray  ? 
Night's  gloomy  watches  fled, 
Morning  all  beaming  red, 
Hope's  smiles  around  us  shed, 

Heavenward — away. 

Where  are  the  parted  friends, 

Once  our  delight  ? 
Dear  and  more  dear  though  now 

Hidden  from  sight. 
Where  they  rejoice  to  be 
There  is  the  land  for  me  ; 
Fly,  time,  fly  speedily — 

Come  life  and  light. 

The  grave  has  just  closed  over  one  of  the 
most  distinguished  examples  that  it  is  in  our 

12 


266  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

power  to  adduce.  On  the  22d  of  January, 
1864,  passed  away  from  her  pleasant  abode  in 
Brooklyn,  K  Y.,  Mrs.  Gold  Selleck  Silliman,  in 
the  eighty-sixth  year  of  her  age.  As  no  com 
mon  loss,  is  this  departure  mourned  by  her  sex 
and  the  community.  Those  heaven-born  affec 
tions  that  constitute  the  happiness  of  home, 
that  watchful  prudence  which,  superintends 
its  internal  polity,  those  sympathies  that 
breathe  a  refining  influence  over  society,  in  her 
never  slumbered.  The  assertion  that  literary 
and  scientific  pursuits  in  woman  are  detrimental 
to  domestic  duties,  that  their  departments  are 
so  distinct  as  not  to  be  united,  she  triumphant 
ly  refuted.  The  antagonism  that  is  supposed 
to  exist  between  them  she  gracefully  harmo 
nized,  proving  that  it  might  be  possible  and 
beautiful  to  excel  in  both. 

Mrs.  Silliman  was  the  daughter  of  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Ely,  a  clergyman  in  one  of  the  more  se 
cluded  townships  of  Connecticut, — a  scholar,  a 
gentleman, — and  a  devout  example  of  the  reli 
gion  that  he  taught.  Educated  at  a  period 
wrhen  the  country  wras  straggling  with  the 
burdens  and  privations  of  the  Revolution,  she 
was  not  exposed  to  the  luxuries  and  excite 
ments  that  sometimes  enervate  the  unfolding 


REMARKABLE      WOMEN.  26Y 

mind.  At  the  age  of  ten,  guided  only  by  her 
own  spontaneous  tastes,  she  diligently  and  de 
lightedly  pursued  the  study  of  natural  philoso 
phy.  Unprompted  and  alone,  she  appropriated 
to  herself  a  nook  for  that  purpose,  where  she 
spent  every  hour  that  was  yielded  to  her  own 
disposal.  Among  the  charms  of  the  rural  re 
gion  that  surrounded  her,  the  wonders  of  as 
tronomy  attracted  her,  and  she  aspired  to  un 
derstand  the  laws  of  the  stars  that  sprinkled 
the  nightly  canopy. 

The  library  of  her  father  comprised  the 
standard  authors,  and  her  style  was  insensibly 
formed  by  familiarity  with  the  British  poets, 
historians,  and  classics.  The  employments  con 
genial  to  her  sex  were  not  overlooked,  but  in 
culcated  by  a  judicious  mother,  and  she  found 
perfect  happiness  in  their  union  with  mental 
action  and  acquirement.  Love  of  nature,  and 
love  of  knowledge,  took  possession  of  the  child, 
and  led  her  all  her  life  long.  In  the  language 
of  the  wise  monarch  of  Israel,  "  they  brought 
her  to  honor  when  she  did  embrace  them." 

To  the  sphere  of  conjugal  and  maternal  du 
ty,  she  brought  the  same  fidelity  and  zeal 
which  had  characterized  her  intellectual  pro 
gress.  The  care  and  instruction  of  a  large  fam- 


268  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

ily  of  children  were  most  affectionately  and 
sedulously  discharged  ;  neither  were  the  details 
of  domestic  duties  deemed  beneath  her  atten 
tion,  or  the  claims  of  social  intercourse  neglect 
ed.  No  task  that  affection  or  prudence  sug 
gested  was  considered  too  trifling  or  too  formid 
able  for  her  performance.  Great  native  vigor 
of  constitution,  confirmed  by  a  training  of  rural 
simplicity,  enabled  her  to  sustain  severe  and 
protracted  sicknesses  and  trying  bereavements 
with  an  equanimity  and  fortitude  that  encour 
aged  and  inspired  all  around  her.  Gentle,  fem 
inine  tenderness,  and  self-sacrificing  love  for  her 
husband  and  children,  were  continually  mani 
fested  by  labors  for  their  welfare;  while  her 
benevolence,  unerring  good  sense,  and  well-bal- 
anced  judgment,  Tendered  her  conversation  val 
uable  and  attractive  in  the  circles  where  she 
moved. 

Yet  still  she  persevered  in  mental  effort  and 
scientific  attainment.  Her  contributions  to  the 
American  Journal  of  Science,  during  a  long  se 
ries  of  years,  were  numerous  and  important. 
Among  them  her  articles  entitled  "  Vitality  of 
Matter"  in  vol.  xv. ;  "  Polar  Explorations" 
vol.  xvi. ;  "  Geology  of  the  Arctic  Regions"  and 
"Malaria?  vol.  xvii. ;  and  "  The  Causes  of  the 


KEMARKABLE      WOMEN.  269 

Aurora  Borealis"  vol.  xix.,  liave  gained  the 
marked  attention  of  profound  minds.  Many 
valued  emanations  from  her  pen  on  moral  and 
patriotic  subjects,  distinguished  by  power  and 
pathos,  have  appeared,  from  time  to  time,  in 
various  periodicals.  Her  paper  on  "  Aerolites  " 
is  a  remarkable  production,  eminent  for  clear 
ness  of  style,  closeness  of  argument,  and  origi 
nality  of  theory.  Its  appendix  contains  a  chro 
nology  of  aerolites,  commencing  with  the  fall  of 
a  meteoric  stone  at  Crete,  1,407  years  before 
the  Christian  era.  This  was  published  in  Eu 
rope,  and  is  the  only  one  of  her  productions  to 
which  her  name  is  affixed,  which  was  done  in 
compliance  with  the  earnest  solicitation  of 
friends.  Of  an  exceedingly  interesting  treatise 
on  the  "  Fur  Trade,  and  Fur-bearing  Animals," 
wrhich,  or  a  great  part  of  it,  was  copied  in  one 
of  the  Edinburgh  magazines,  without  reference 
to  its  source,  she  pleasantly  remarks,  in  a  letter 
to  a  friend : 

"  As  I  do  not  write  for  fame,  it  did  not  disturb  me  that  this 
should  have  been  published  in  Blackwood,  without  acknowledg 
ment,  making  it  appear  as  original  in  that  journal.  Indeed,  I 
was  not  a  little  pleased  that  it  should  be  so  well  thought  of." 

Essays  embodying  great  research,  she  dedi 
cated  simply  to  the  diffusion  of  knowledge,  per- 


- 


270  PAST     MEEIDIAN. 

sonal  ambition  having  no  share  in  her  intellec 
tual  element.  Singularly  free  was  her  nature 
from  selfishness  or  a  desire  of  display.  Neither 
could  she  tolerate  any  form  of  insincerity.  Gen 
erosity  and  justice  were  ever  prominent  in  her 
words  and  deeds. 

One  perfectly  qualified  to  judge,  has  said  : 
"  The  strictest  and  severest  truth,  love  and  fear 
of  God,  entire  absence  of  selfishness,  courage 
that  never  quailed  under  trials,  with  the  most 
tireless  tenderness  for  those  whom  her  heart 
held  dear,  marked  her  character,  even  more  con 
spicuously  than  mental  superiority,  or  the  ex 
cellence  of  her  writings.  Without  the  slightest 
attempt  at  popularity,  or  seeking  and  expecting 
attentions,  she  received  the  distinguished  con 
sideration  and  respect  of  all  who  knew  her.  I 
can  truly  say  that  I  have  never  seen  a  person 
of  more  unswerving  goodness,  more  infallible  in 
wisdom,  or  wrho  possessed  such  exalted,  pure, 
and  tender  sentiments,  without  mixture  of  self 
and  apparently  without  capacity  for  a  mean  or 
unworthy  thought." 

The  children  whom  she  so  fondly  and  faith 
fully  nurtured,  repaid  her  with  an  enthusiastic 
love.  She  was  emphatically  their  pride  and 
delight.  Fervently  they  and  their  father  rose 


REMARKABLE      WOMEN. 


up  and  called  her  blessed.  Around  the  couch 
of  her  last,  prolonged  sickness,  their  ministra 
tions  were  like  those  of  angels.  The  stress  of 
more  than  fourscore  years  had  left  the  great 
mind  and  heart  wholly  unimpaired.  Their  clay 
casket,  indeed,  trembled  and  suffered,  but  Heav 
en's  patience  girded  the  soul. 

Death  has  set  his  seal  upon  her  noble  and 
beautiful  life.  Did  He  not  accomplish  that 
which,  from  youth,  had  been  her  daily  petition, 
"  Lord,  make  me  that  which  Thou  wouldst 
have  me  to  be  !  "  Was  it  not  His  will  that  she 
should  be  numbered  with  those  "  spirits  of  the 
just  made  perfect,"  whom,  while  here  on  earth, 
she  so  much  resembled? 

The  kind  and  wise  provision  of  our  Heaven 
ly  Father,  by  which  the  losses  or  needs  of  the 
several  periods  of  life  find  substitutes  or  com 
forts,  is  a  pleasant  contemplation.  Youth  must 
lose  the  sleepless  affection  that  watched  over  its 
early  helplessness,  but  exults  in  the  vigor  that 
can  take  care  of  itself,  and  in  the  developed  in 
tellect  that  knows  what  to  do.  Love  resigns 
the  fragrance  of  its  first  flowers,  but  is  repaid 
by  the  rich  clusters  ripening  beneath  its  leaves. 
Age  feels  its  strength  decline,  but  rests  peace 
fully  in  the  shadow  of  the  filial  love,  that  itself 


272  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

had  reared,  inhaling  mental  health  from  the 
beautiful  ministries  of  nature. 

Has  the  rose  of  June  less  brilliancy  and 
freshness,  than  in  our  childhood  ?  Is  it  a 
slighter  favor  than  of  old,  to  behold  it,  as  it 
goes  clustering  up  to  the  cottage-eaves  ?  "  Ev 
ery,  bud  grows  more  lovely,  the  song  of  the  bird 
is  sweeter  than  ever ;  "  said  a  man  on  the  verge 
of  eighty-eight  (my  own  blessed  father).  Ah  ! 
thus  should  it  ever  be,  with  those  who  draw 
nearer  to  flowers  that  never  fade,  to  melody 
that  never  ceases.  By  the  daily  exercise  of  such 
a  spirit,  should  they  prepare  for  the  "  exceeding 
weight  of  glory "  that  awaits  them.  Let  us 
educate  ourselves  for  Heaven's  high  bliss,  by 
cheerfully  partaking  of  that  which  earth 
yields. 

Now  and  then  we  meet  a  person,  who  seems 
unwilling  to  forfeit  the  privileges  of  murmuring 
and  wearing  a  sour,  sad  face.  These  but  height 
en  the  evils  they  deprecate.  Others,  from  a 
naturally  easy  temperament,  more  readily  avoid 
repining.  Yet  a  capacity  for  sustained  enjoy 
ment  under  the  pressure  of  years,  needs  the 
support  of  piety ;  a  spirit  in  harmony  with  its 
lot  and  with  its  Law-giver. 

Would  it  hot  be  well  for  all  to  try  to  enjoy 


REMARKABLE      WOMEN.  273 

their  closing  day  ?  What  is  the  use  of  hanging 
a  pall  over  the  setting  sun  ?  Shall  we  spread 
the  wet  napkin  of  the  wicked  Hazael,  that 
smothered  the  kingly  sleeper,  to  extinguish  our 
own  "  life  of  life,"  while  yet  breath  is  left 
us? 

Rather,  with  the  armor  recommended  by 
the  eloquent  Apostle,  "  in  the  patience  of  hope, 
and  the  labor  of  love,"  would  we  press  onward. 
"  Wax  old  in  thy  work"  says  the  son  of  Sirach. 
We  will  ask  wisdom  to  do  so,  and  to  "  stand  in 
our  lot,  at  the  end  of  the  days." 

"  A  fine  writer  has  said,  '  The  ancients  might  call  age  sad, 
but  that  is  not  what  we  Christians  ought  to  do.  If  any  old 
persons  think  there  are  about  them,  things  that  might  sadden 
them  a  little,  let  them  become  Christians,  and  this  melancholy 
will  change  into  something  like  a  gentle  prayer,  always  rising 
from  within  the  soul.'  " 

Every  year  that  we  are  permitted  to  live 
enhances  the  debt  of  gratitude.  Yes,  every  full- 
orbed  year,  with  its  four  beautiful  seasons,  its 
twelve  perfect  months,  its  days  and  nights,  set 
in  rose-diamond  and  ebony  chased  with  gold, 
are  glorious  gems,  for  the  casket  of  eter 
nity. 

O  Lord,  our  Governor !  for  every  added 
year,  receive  our  thanks.  We  will  not  hide 
12* 


274  •    PAST      MERIDIAN. 

their  number,  or  prize  them  less  because  they 
are  many ;  but,  taking  each  as  a  blessed  gift 
from  Thine  Hand,  embalm  them  with  the  mel 
ody  of  praise. 


CHAPTEE    XY. 


stmttjj 


"  Argue  not 

Against  Heaven's  hand  or  will,  nor  bate  a  jot 
Of  heart  or  hope ;  but  still  bear  up,  and  steer 
Right  onward. 

MILTON. 


How  beautiful  is  the  setting  sun !  Long 
lines  of  golden  rays  tremble  along  the  horizon  ; 
crimson  and  purple,  like  the  banner  of  a  king, 
go  floating  up  the  zenith.  As  a  benefactor,  he 
retires  from  the  scenes  he  has  blessed,  and 
through  the  calm  twilight  men  tenderly  remem 
ber  him. 

Thus  should  a  good  life  draw  toward  its 
close,  fruitful  in  benefits,  and  glowing  with  re 
flected  love,  until  the  evening  star  hangs  out  its 
silver  crescent.  Thus  should  its  westering  sun 
beams  be  treasured  in  the  grateful  hearts  which 
have  been  cheered  by  its  path  of  radiance. 


276  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

A  selfish  old  age  must  be,  of  necessity,  an 
.unhappy  one.  It  is  an  indwelling  with  losses  ; 
lost  comeliness,  lost  vigor,  lost  pleasure,  lost  im 
portance  among  the  bright  and  swift  current  of 
moving  things.  The  hopeless  search  for  what 
is  departed,  depresses  the  spirits,  and  prepares 
them  to  partake  in  the  declension  that  marks 
the  body.  If  whatever  brings  the  mind  into 
bondage  must  impair  its  force, — the  decay  of 
memory,  of  judgment,  the  adjunct  to  memory, 
and  of  self-respect,  which,  in  a  measure,  depends 
on  both,  is  more  likely  to  occur  and  become 
palpable  among  aged  persons,  who  think  prin 
cipally  and  permanently  of  themselves:  It  is 
cause  for  thankfulness  if  through  the  changes, 
the  charities,  or  the  trials  of  life,  they  have  beefi 
taught  to  lower  their  own  expectations  from  a 
world  they  are  soon  to  leave.  Salutary  and 
lovely  is  God's  discipline  with  those  whose 
long  pilgrimage  is  nearly  finished  ;  withdraw 
ing  the  props  on  which  they  leaned,  loosening 
the  heartstrings  that  were  too  closely  or  proud 
ly  earth-bound,  that  the  soul,  ere  she  tries  her 
unfettered  wing,  may  "  spring  up  and  take 
strong  hold  on  Him  who  made  her." 

It  is  pleasant  to  recall  whatever  of  brilliance 
we  may  have  seen  gather  around  the  western 


WESTERING      SUNBEAMS.  277 

gate  of  life,  and  preserve  it  as  a  guiding  light 
for  the  feet  of  others.  How  noble  was  the  bra 
very  with  which  the  poet  Dryden  battled  the 
storms  of  fortune,  lifting  an  unquenched  spirit 
like  a  torch  amid  rocks  and  waves.  When  he 
might  through  age  have  naturally  wished  to  re 
lax  the  pressure  of  literary  labor,  he  was  stimu 
lated  anew  by  paternal  affections.  Just  on  the 
verge  of  his  seventieth  year  he  was  apprised  of 
the  approaching  return  of  his  son  from  Kome, 
in  a  feeble  state  of  health ;  and  though  he  had 
scarcely  completed  the  task  of  preparing  the 
second  edition  of  his  translation  of  Virgil  for 
the  press,  he  took  no  breathing  time,  but  imme 
diately  contracted  to  supply  a  bookseller  with 
ten  thousand  verses,  at  sixpence  a  line,  saying 
pathetically  of  his  invalid  child,  "  I  cannot 
spend  my  life  better  than  in  preserving  his.'7 

Among  the  men  who,  taking  in  their  hand 
"  their  lives,  their  fortunes,  and  their  sacred 
honor,"  gave  signature  to  the  Magna  Charta  of 
our  national  freedom,  quite  a  number  were  ap 
pointed  to  length  of  days,  with  unfaded  re 
nown. 

Of  this  band  of  fifty-six,  some  of  whom,  in 
the  course  of  our  Revolution,  encountered  dan 
ger,  as  well  as  loss,  it  seems  remarkable  that 


278  PAST      MEIIIDIAN. 

ten  should  have  survived  to  between  eighty 
and  ninety,  and  four  to  between  ninety  and  an 
hundred. 

The  Honorable  Charles  Carroll,  of  Carroll- 
ton,  Maryland,  attained  the  greatest  age,  and 
long  after  his  compeers  had  departed,  lingered 
to  witness  the  growth  of  the  liberties  which 
they  had  planted  under  the  storm-cloud.  He 
had  received  many  advantages  for  the  acquisi 
tion  of  knowledge,  having  been  taken  to  Europe 
at  the  age  of  eight,  and  placed  under  accom 
plished  instructors.  After  a  collegiate  course 
in  France,  and  the  study  of  law  in  England,  he 
returned  to  his  native  land  at  twenty-eight,  a 
finished  scholar  and  gentleman. 

His  powerful  pen  was  early  useful  in  de 
fence  of  the  endangered  States, — and  a  series  of 
essays,  published  at  an  important  crisis,  had  in 
fluence  in  arousing  the  zeal  of  patriotism,  and 
aiding  its  successful  result. 

Many  offices  of  honor  were  appointed  him 
in  his  own  State,  as  well  as  those  of  Member  of 
Congress,  and  Senator  of  the  United.  States,  in 
all  of  which  he  evinced  high  integrity  and  abil 
ity.  His  clearness  of  judgment,  extensive  learn 
ing,  and  decision  of  character,  gave  weight  to 
the  opinions  he  advocated,  and  the  course  he 
pursued. 


WESTERING     SUNBEAMS.- 


At  sixty-three,  he  chose  to  retire  from  pub 
lic  toils  and  distinctions.  Then,  his  love  of  do 
mestic  and  social  intercourse,  his  vivacity  of 
temper,  and  refinement  of  taste,  shone  forth 
without  a  cloud.  Pilgrimages  were  made  by 
strangers  to  see,  in  his  own  nobly  hospitable 
mansion,  this  patriarch  of  the  patriarchs.  There, 
surrounded  by  his  descendants,  to  the  third 
generation,  and  venerated  by  all,  on  the  14th 
of  November,  1832,  he  ceased  to  live,  falling 
short  only  three  years  of  a  complete  century. 

The  Honorable  William  Ellery,  of  Newport, 
who,  from  the  memorable  era  of  1776,  contin 
ued  nine  years  a  member  of  Congress,  after 
ward  took  his  seat  as  chief  justice  of  the  supe 
rior  'court  of  Ehode  Island.  When  the  age  of 
seventy  released  him  from  this  office,  he  accept 
ed  that  of  collector  of  customs  for  his  native 
city,  affectionately  serving  her  till  the  day  of 
his  death,  which  took  place  at  the  age  of  ninety- 
three.  So  social  and  agreeable  was  he,  notwith 
standing  his  advanced  age,  and  such  power  of 
vivid  and  graphic  narration  did  he  continue  to 
possess,  that  the  young  sought  his  company  for 
their  own  pleasure. 

It  was  on  the  morning  of  his  death,  Febru 
ary  15th,  1829,  that  his  family  physician  called, 


280  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

not  professionally,  but  as  a  friend,  to  enjoy  for 
half  an  hour  his  delightful  society.  In  his 
usual  health,  he  was  seated  in  his  arm-chair, 
reading  Cicero  de  Officiis.  But  while  the  tide 
of  conversation  flowed  freely  and  brightly  on, 
the  quick  eye  of  the  medical  man  detected  a 
change  in  his  venerated  companion.  He  was 
laid  upon  the  bed,  but  resumed  reading  the 
page  which  was  interesting  him  when  his  friend 
entered.  Gently  the  pulse  ceased  its  motion, 
and  the  unclouded  mind  glided  from  its  tene 
ment  of  clay.  Deep  humility  of  spirit  was  the 
gift  of  this  extraordinary  man,  and  a  firmness 
in  duty,  not  influenced  by  human  applause  or 
blame.  The  wheels  of  life  moved  more  calmly, 
arid  perhaps  longer,  from  the  serene  tempera 
ment  of  his  religion,  which,  under  every  ob 
stacle  or  misfortune,  solaced  his  own  soul  and 
that  of  others  with  the  sublime  precept,  "  The 
Lord  reigiieth,  let  the  earth  rejoice." 

The  sunbeams  of  usefulness  have  sometimes 
lingered  to  a  late  period  around  the  heads  of 
those  who  had  taken  part  in  the  pioneer  hard 
ships  of  our  new  settlements.  I  think  now  of 
one,  but  recently  deceased,  at  the  age  of  eighty- 
five — Judge  Burnett,  who  was  numbered  among 
the  founders  of  Ohio,  that  State  which  sprang 


WESTERING      SUNBEAMS.  281 

from  its  cradle  with  the  vigor  of  a  giant.  After 
the  completion  of  his  classical  and  legal  studies, 
he  exchanged  his  fair  ancestral  home  in  New 

o 

Jersey  for  a  residence  in  Cincinnati,  then  in  its 
rudest  stages  of  development.  As  he  climbed 
the  steep  river-bank  he  saw  only  scattered  cab 
ins,  a  few  framed  buildings,  and  a  log-fort, 
marking  the  frontier  of  civilized  life.  Corn- 
forming  his  habits  to  those  of  an  unrefined  com 
munity,  and  claiming  but  a  few  physical  com 
forts,  he  exercised  his  profession  in  the  courts 
of  Detroit  and  Vincennes,  when  travelling  was 
by  bridle  paths,  by  blazed  trees,  fording  wild 
streams,  and  camping  on  the  wet  ground.  Edu 
cated  in  the  school  of  Washington  and  of  Ham 
ilton,  who  were  honored  guests  at  his  father's 
house  during  the  former  period  of  his  life, — he 
nobly  dispersed  around  him  the  wealth  of  an 
upright  and  polished  mind.  By  persevering  in 
dustry  and  moral  and  religious  worth,  he  won 
general  confidence  :  while  in  due  time  a  seat  in 
the  Senate  of  the  United  States,  and  upon  the 
bench  of  the  supreme  court  of  Ohio,  attested 
the  respect  of  the  people.  Population  spread 
around  him  like  the  pageantry  of  a  dream,  and 
Cincinnati,  among  whose  rudiments  his  manly 
hand  had  wrought,  echoed  ere  his  departure  to 


282  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

the  rushing  tread  of  130,000  inhabitants.  His 
health  had  been  originally  feeble,  but  the  en 
durance  of  hardship,  and,  what  is  still  more  re 
markable,  the  access  of  years,  confirmed  it.  At 
more  than  fourscore,  he  moved  through  the 
streets  with  as  erect  a  form,  an  eye  as  intensely 
bright,  and  colloquial  powers  as  free  and  fasci 
nating,  as  at  thirty.  When,  full  of  knowledge 
and  benevolence,  and  with  an  unchanged  intel 
lect,  he  passed  away,  it  was  felt  that  not  only 
one  of  the  fathers  of  a  young  land  had  fallen, 
but  that  one  of  the  bright  and  beautiful  lights 
of  society  had  been  extinguished. 

Of  Daniel  Webster  it  was  affirmed  that  the 
clearness  of  his  own  great  mind  continued  to 
increase  and  to  flow  forth  with  even  a  fuller  ra 
diance  at  seventy,  than  in  his  prime.  Like  the 
reformer  Wycliffe,  he  was  more  and  more  "  in 
tent  upon  being  understood,  intent  upon  im 
parting  the  conviction  or  passion  of  his  own 
mind  to  other  minds."  With  this  singleness  of 
purpose,  and  power  of  truth,  was  also  mingled 
a  depth  of  feeling,  scarcely  indicated  by  his 
massive  form  and  majestic  deportment.  "  Yet," 
said  an  old  man  of  more  than  eighty,  who  had 
long  intimately  known  him,  "  he  could  sym 
pathize  with  all.  Ever  had  he  a  kindly  word 


WESTEKING      SUNBEAMS.  283 

for  the  child,  the  youth,  and  him  of  hoary  hairs. 
He  could  not  look  upon  a  fair  landscape,  or 
fields  waving  with  grain,  without  blessing  God 
for  permitting  him  to  live  in  a  world  so  teem 
ing  with  beauty."  Thus,  with  the  radiance  of 
thought  and  feeling  still  glowing  in  his  deep- 
set  eye, 

"  How  well  he  fell  asleep  ! 

Like  some  grand  river  widening  toward  the  sea, 
Calmly  and  grandly,  silently  and  deep, 
Life  joined  eternity." 

The  capacity  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington  as 
a  counsellor  in  all  matters  of  state,  a  wise  di 
rector  of  his  own  large  estates,  and  an  ornament 
in  society,  was  as  great  at  eighty-five,  as  during 
any  previous  period.  His  bodily  activity  and 
powers  of  endurance  were  also  remarkable, 
though  in  boyhood  his  constitution  was  pro 
nounced  extremely  delicate.  More  than  once 
I  have  observed  with  delight  his  arrival  at  the 
House  of  Lords,  on  some  wintry  morning,  on 
horseback,  when,  throwing  his  reins  to  the  sin 
gle  servant  who  attended  him.  he  would  pro 
ceed  with  vigorous  step,  and  cheek  brightened 
by  exposure  to  the  keen  air,  up  those  long 
flights  of  stairs  which,  in  the  old  parliament 
building,  were  formidable  to  younger  feet. 


284  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

One  evening  he  was  seized,  while  in  his 
place,  with  sudden  illness,  like  a  premonition 
of  paralysis.  In  leaving  the  house  he  chanced 
to  drop  his  hat,  and  realizing,  with  singular 
clearness  of  mind,  that  should  he  stoop  to  re 
gain  it,  the  rush  of  blood  through  the  brain 
might  be  dangerously  quickened,  passed  on 
without  it,  holding  his  head  in  its  usually  very 
upright  position.  One  of  the  peers,  noticing 
his  departure,  anxiously  followed,  and  finding 
he  had  no  carriage  in  attendance,  induced  him 
to  accept  his  own,  and  return  home.  For  two 
or  three  days  bulletins  were  issued  from  Ap  - 
ley  House,  to  allay  the  anxiety  of  the  people, 
with  whom  he  was  an  idol.  Then,  again  ap 
pearing  in  his  accustomed  parliamentary  seat, 
he  sustained  some  pending  resolution  with  a 
brief  and  lucid  speech,  proving  that  indomi 
table  energy  and  strength  of  will,  which  per 
vaded  even  the  latest  periods  of  his  existence. 

England  has  been  singularly  favored  by  the 
protracted  light  shed  upon  her  counsels  by 
heads  that  wear  the  silver  crown  of  age.  At 
eighty-six,  Lord  Brougham  speaks  forcibly  and 
well ;  Lords  Lansdowne  and  Aberdeen,  at  more 
than  threescore  and  ten,  are  eminent  ministers 
of  state ;  and  Lord  Lyndhurst,  the  son  of  our 


WESTEKING      SUNBEAMS.  285 

own  artist  Copley,  until  his  death,  at  the  age  of 
ninety-one,  was  able  to  take  part  in  the  discus 
sion  of  intricate  public  affairs,  and  ranked  by 
good  judges  among  the  greatest  of  living 
orators. 

Born  in  the  same  year  with  Lord  Lynd- 
hurst,  1772,  and  in  the  same  fair  city  of  Boston, 
the  Hon.  Josiah  Quincy  still  exhibits  unbroken 
intellect.  The  pen  retains  its  force,  that  traced 
in  early  life  the  memorial  of  his  illustrious 
father,  and  afterward  gave  to  our  country,  be 
sides  other  valued-  works,  a  history  in  two  vol 
umes  of  her  most  ancient  seat  of  learning,  Har 
vard  University,  over  which  he  had  himself 
presided  with  honor  for  more  than  sixteen 
years.  That  fervid  eloquence  which  on  the  floor 
of  Congress,  and  on  so  many  civic  occasions, 
cast  forth  its  bold  metaphors  and  coruscations 
of  wit,  is  not  yet  extinguished.  It  is  probably 
an  unprecedented  fact  that  at  the  age  of  more 
than  fourscore,  he  should  have  been  urged  to 
accept  a  nomination  to  the  mayoralty  of  his 
native  city,  an  office  which  he  had  held  thirty 
years  before ;  leaving  at  his  retirement  indel 
ible  marks  of  his  taste  and  efficiency  in  the 
financial  prosperity,  the  humane  institutions, 
and  elegant  structures  of  this  Athens  of 
England. 


286  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

At  his  delightful  summer  residence  in  Quin- 
cy,  superintending  the  minute  and  perfectly 
balanced  policies  of  his  rural  domain,  he  enter 
tains  his  guests  with  that  fine  blending  of 
frankness  and  dignity  peculiar  to  the  true  gen 
tlemen  of  the  old  school.  At  my  last  visit 
there,  it  was  a  pleasure  to  see  his  erect  form, 
healthful  complexion,  and  what  is  still  more 
remarkable  in  our  changeful  climate,  an  entire 
set  of  white  teeth  which  the  art  of  the  dentist 
had  never  interpolated.  Surrounded  by  the 
sweetest  filial  affections,  the  man  whom  the  elo 
quent  Everett  has  pronounced  the  "  ornament 
of  the  forum,  the  senate,  and  the  academy," 
gracefully  interchanged  the  pursuits  of  Cicero 
for  those  of  Cincinnatus. 

My  own  native  city  was  formerly  rich  in  in 
stances  of  longevity,  united  with  health  and 
protracted  power  of  enjoyment.  It  was  a  cher 
ished  desire  of  mine  in  childhood,  to  be  permit 
ted  to  invite  a  party  of  those  pleasant  ancient 
people,  who,  residing  within  a  short  distance  of 
each  other,  preserved  social  feeling  in  delightful 
freshness. 

I  think  now  of  a  gentleman,  Capt.  Bela 
Peck,  whose  tall,  athletic  form  and  habits  of 
active  exercise  yielded  not  to  the  pressure  of 


WESTEKING      SUNBEAMS.  287 

more  than  ninety  years.  He  was  fond  of  driv 
ing  his  own  carriage  himself,  and  of  persevering 
in  the  useful  habitudes  of  earlier  life.  I  well 
recollect  the  tones  of  his  friend]y  voice  and  his 
decided  opinions  on  points  of  truth  and  equity. 
A  just  and  upright  man  was  he  ; — would  that 
his  type  of  character  were  more  frequent  in  our 
own  times.  A  noble  library  of  valuable  books 
beautifully  arranged  in  the  Free  Academy  at 
Norwich,  will  embalm  his  name  and  memory 
for  future  generations. 

Till  ninety-two  winters  had  drawn  their 
shadows  over  her  path,  Madam  Hannah  La- 
throp,  a  native  of  the  same  city,  retained  traces 
of  the  beauty  and  grace  which  had  distinguished 
her  youth.  Without  resigning  the  cares  of 
housekeeping,  in  whose  perfection  of  order  and 
taste  she  had  been  proverbial,  or  deputing  its 
polity  and  details  to  others,  she  continued  to 
interest  herself  in  home-happiness,  and  in  the 
surrounding  households  of  her  children.  Surely 
age,  in  her  case,  was  not  unlovely. 

And  when,  with  mild  decline,  its  sunset  came, 

With  powers  still  unimpair'd,  and  speaking  words 

Of  piety  and  love,  all  willingly, 

As  a  confiding  and  obedient  child 

Turns  to  its  father's  house,  she  went  above. 

From  his  fair  estate  at  Brookline,  in  the  vi- 


288  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

cinity  of  Boston,  where  so  many  have  been 
made  happy  by  hospitality  and  benevolence, 
has  been  recently  transferred  to  a  higher  state 
of  existence,  Col.  Thomas  H.  Perkins,  in  his 
ninetieth  year.  It  was  to  me  a  source  of  exult 
ing  pleasure  while  abroad,  to  meet  him  arriving 
in  London,  with  unalloyed  spirits,  an  energetic 
and  excellent  traveller,  both  by  sea  and  land, 
though  then  on  the  confines  of  fourscore.  The 
voyage,  from  which  so  many  young  persons 
shrink,  was  to  him  no  obstacle ;  indeed,  he 
afterward  repeated  it,  enjoying  the  changeful 
and  boisterous  scenery  of  ocean,  as  when  in  his 
prime. 

His  munificence,  with  its  living  rays,  bright 
ened  until  life's  sunset.  His  sympathies  for  the 
sightless  had  been  expressed  by  such  large 
bounties,  among  others,  the  gift  of  a  mansion, 
valued  at  forty  thousand  dollars,  that  the  insti 
tute  for  their  instruction  was  incorporated  by 
the  name  of  the  "  Perkins  Asylum  for  the 
Blind."  Truly 'was  it  said  of  him  by  Mr.  Ste 
venson,  at  an  assemblage  of  the  merchants  of 
Boston,  whose  profession  he  had  so  honorably 
represented  throughout  a  long  life  : 

"  Literature,  science,  and  art,  each  received 
his  homage  and  his  sacrifices ;  but  his  chosen 


WESTERING      SUNBEAMS.  289 

altar  was  in  the  temple  of  charity.  No  story 
of  distress  fell  upon  his  ear,  without  making  his 
manly  heart  throb  to  the  overflow  of  tears.  It 
was  not  weakness,  but  greatness  in  him.  Those 
tears  were  the  mingled  offspring  of  sorrow  and 
of  joy ;  sorrow  for  suffering,  and  joy  that  he 
could  do  something  to  alleviate  it. 

o 
"  '  His  full  heart  kept  his  full  hand  open.' " 

A  touching  scene  occurred  in  Fanueil  Hall, 
the  year  previous  to  his  death.  Daniel  Web 
ster,  speaking  there  with  fervid  eloquence,  of 
the  liberal  aid  that  had  been  rendered  to  the 
cause  of  education,  morality,  want,  and  woe,  by 
the  affluence  of  Boston,  alluded  personally  to 
the  venerable  Colonel  Perkins,  then  seated  near 
him  on  the  platform. 

"  Will  he  rise  at  my  request,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  and  show  his  benevolent  countenance  to  the 
people  ? " 

He  who  had  been  of  old  distinguished  by  a 
lofty  form  and  kingly  beauty,  stood  up  in  the 
feebleness  of  hoary  time.  Three  cheers,  into 
which  the  heart  of  grateful  thousands  were 
merged,  rent  the  concave.  And  yet  three  more 
followed. 

Then  the  great  orator  said  with  trembling  lip : 

13 


290  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

"  God  bless  him  !  He  is  an  honor  to  his 
city,  an  honor  to  his  State,  an  honor  to  his 
country.  His  memory  will  be  perfumed  by  his 
benevolent  actions,  and  go  down  a  sweet  odor 
to  our  children's  children." 

Still  traversing  the  streets  of  Boston,  in  his 
ninety-second  year,  regardless  of  winter's  cold,  or 
summer's  heat,  may  be  seen  the  venerable  mis 
sionary,  the  Rev.  Charles  Cleveland,  intent  on 
deeds  of  mercy.  The  orphan,  so  often  over 
looked  in  the  world's  great  strife,  the  suffering 
widow7,  the  poor  emigrant,  with  his  sick  stran 
ger-heart,  hear,  approaching  their  desolate  attic, 
or  dark,  damp  cellar,  a  tireless  foot,  and  are 
cheered  by  the  blessed  smile  of  one  who,  like 
the  aged  apostle  John,  has  concentrated  all 
Christian  duties  in  the  precept  to  "  love  one 
another."  In  a  school  for  infants,  under  the 
superintendence  of  his  wife,  he  manifests  con 
tinual  interest,  and  by  affectionate  deportment 
and  kind  counsel  to  all,  without  distinction  of 
sect,  shows  the  perpetual  play  of  those  hallowed 
sunbeams  that  repel  the  depression  of  age,  and 
herald  an  unclouded  day. 

In  the  department  of  editorial  labor,  whose 
unresting,  keen-eyed  research  is  rewarded  in  our 
age  and  country  by  such  immense  influence 


WESTERING      SUNBEAMS.  291 

over  public  opinion,  there  have  been  instances 
of  the  long  and  prosperous  endurance  of  the 
severe  tax  it  imposes  both  on  mind  and  body. 
Among  these,  the  Hon.  Theodore  D wight  was 
eminently  distinguished.  A  native  of  Massa 
chusetts,  he  resided  the  greater  part  of  his  life 
in  Connecticut  and  New  York,  and  conducted 
in  both  of  the  last-named  States,  different  week 
ly  periodicals,  for  the  space  of  half  a  century. 
He  also  stood  a  faithful  sentinel  at  that  unslum- 
bering  post,  the  head  of  a  daily  newspaper  of 
large  circulation,  in  the  city  of  New  York.  His 
fine  literary  taste  did  not  confine  itself  to  edito 
rial  articles,  but  in  consecutive  works,  as  well 
as  on  the  floor  of  Congress,  he  was  appreciated 
by  his  countrymen.  Age  did  not  dim  his  intel 
lect,  or  his  remarkable  colloquial  powers.  He 
continued  to  write  with  the  same  rapidity  and 
acuteness  that  had  marked  his  early  prime ;  the 
„  messenger  often  taking  the  pages  wet  with  ink 
to  the  waiting  press.  Well  do  I  remember  the 
radiance  of  his  expressive  black  eye,  when  those 
coruscations  of  wit  kindled,  which  eighty -two 
winters  had  not  quelled,  or  when  the  smile  of 
earnest  friendship,  or  hallowed  affection,  lighted 
up  a  face  beautiful  to  the  last. 

The  gentler  sex  have  occasionally  ventured 


292  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

into  the  arduous  and  responsible  editorial  post ; 
and  among  these,  Mrs.  Ann  Royal  continued  to 
conduct  a  paper  in  the  city  of  Washington, 
with  an  unclouded  spirit,  until  the  age  of 
eighty-five. 

In  the  same  city,  the  venerable  editors  of 
the  "  National  Intelligencer "  long  continued 
unimpaired  their  professional  toils.  Col.  Sea- 
ton,  who  mingled  with  indefatigable  industry  a 
singular  urbanity,  received  among  other  marks 
of  popular  favor  repeated  elections  to  the 
mayoralty ;  while  his  associate,  Mr.  Gales,  with 
his  still  bright  eye  and  expansive  benevolence, 
was  characterized  by  a  discriminating  pen  as 
"  a  politician  without  seeking  office,  and  a 
statesman,  without  holding  it." 

Col.  Green,  one  of  the  earliest  editors  who 
gave  Connecticut  her  weekly  "  folio  of  four 
pages,"  remained  clear-minded,  and  full  of  hap 
piness,  till  his  ninety-fourth  year.  The  late 
Col.  Ward,  who  was  born  in  the  same  year, 
and  has  been  recently  removed, — retained,  after 
a  life  of  active  business,  a  memory  wonderfully 
tenacious  of  dates,  facts,  and  historical  incidents, 
and  was  among  the  most  interesting  representa 
tives  of  the  past  that  Hartford  can  boast.  The 
same  pleasant  city  numbered  with  its  most  hon- 


WESTERING      SUNBEAMS.  293 

ored  dwellers  Chief  Justice  Williams,  who 
veiled  profound  learning  with  true  Christian 
humility,  and  until  eighty-four,  when  a  brief 
illness  raised  the  curtains  of  his  tent,  and  a 
mourning  community  heard  that  he  was  gone, 
mingled  his  bright  smile,  and  earnest  voice, 
with  every  work  of  benevolence  and  piety. 

To  stand  on  earth's  high  places,  in  the  garb 
Of  heavenly  meekness,  yet  to  comprehend 
And  track  the  tortuous  policies  of  guile 
With  righteous  blame,  and  heart  immaculate  ; — 
To  pass  just  sentence  on  the  wiles  of  fraud 
And  deeds  of  wickedness,  yet  freshly  keep 
The  fountain  of  good-will  to  all  mankind, 
To  mark  for  more  than  fourscore  years  a  line 
Of  light  without  a  mist,  are  victories 
Not  oft  achiev'd  by  frail  humanity, — 
Yet  were  they  his. 

Among  the  most  genial  spirits  of  the  age, 
was  the  venerable  Dr.  John  W.  Francis  of  New 
York.  Time  levied  no  tax  on  his  enthusiasm 
in  intellectual  pursuits,  in  friendship,  or  in 
charity.  The  Mentor  of  his  profession,  he 
warmly  extended  to  the  young  medical  prac 
titioner  the  helping  hand,  or  the  word  of  encour 
agement.  The  oldest  member  of  the  Historical 
Society  of  the  Empire  city,  his  authority  was 
decisive  as  an  antiquarian,  so  vast  and  precise 


294  PAST     MEEIDIAN. 

were  his  retentive  and  recollective  powers.  A 
writer  of  versatility  and  force,  a  favorite  in  liter 
ary  circles,  his  conversation  and  manners  were 
replete  with  such  a  glow  of  feeling,  as  set  the 
frosts  of  age  at  defiance. 

In  every  grade  and  occupation  are  some 
times  found  instances  of  protracted  usefulness, 
mingling  with  that  hopeful,  cheerful  tempera 
ment,  which  is  supposed  to  appertain  to  the 
earlier  periods  of  life.  This  is  illustrated  in  the 
following  extracts  from  one  of  those  letters  with 
which  the  late  Grant  Thorburn,  the  octogena 
rian  florist,  occasionally  interested  the  public, 
through  the  medium  of  our  various  periodicals. 

"  NEW  YORK,  February,  18,  1854. 

"  This  clay  I  enter  on  my  eighty-second  year  ;  my  health  as 
good,  my  appetite  as  good,  I  relish  my  food  as  well,  and  I  sleep 
as  well,  as  when  in  my  thirtieth  year  ;  and  for  this,  I  thank  the 
Giver  of  all  Good.  The  sceptic  may  sneer  and  the  fool  may 
laugh,  it  is  but  the  crackling  of  thorns  under  a  pot.  You  may 
call  this  egotism,  or  any  ism  that  you  please,  but  I  think  that 
ingratitude  is  worse  than  the  sin  of  witchcraft.  *  What  shall  I 
render  to  the  Lord  for  all  his  benefits  ? ' 

"  For  the  last  sixty  years,  I  have  been  only  one  day  confined 
to  my  dwelling  by  sickness.  Seventeen  of  these  summers  were 
spent  in  the  city,  when  yellow  fever,  like  a  Turkish  plague, 
made  our  streets  desolate,  and  strong  men  dropped  like  grass 
beneath  the  scythe  of  the  mower.  The  doctors  of  law,  physic, 
and  divinity,  the  board  of  health,  the  mayor,  and  the  ancient 
men  of  the  city,  all  affirmed  that  the  fever  was  contagious.  If 


WESTEKING     SUNBEAMS.  295 

so,  I  have  a  higher  power  than  Chance  to  thank  for  the  preser 
vation  of  myself  and  family  ;  for  neither  my  wife,  myself,  nor  any 
of  my  thirteen  children,  were  ever  affected  by  this  fatal  disease. 
The  exemption  was  the  more  remarkable,  as  I  spent  much  of 
my  time  in  the  chambers  of  death,  and  at  the  sick  bed  of  the 
dying. 

"  In  the  dreadful  fever  of  1798,  from  the  15th  to  the  22d  of 
September,  I  had  seven  patients.  They  lay  in  three  different 
wards,  near  half  a  mile  apart.  I  travelled  day  and  night,  from 
one  house  to  another,  they  having  none  to  give  them  a  cup  of 
cold  water,  myself  excepted.  Four  of  them  died  ;  three  recov 
ered.  Thousands  died  alone. 

"  I  will  narrate  in  eighty  minutes  my  journey  of  twice  forty 
years  through  the  wilderness  of  this  world.  Many,  and  full  of 
good,  have  been  the  days  of  my  pilgrimage.  When  I  left  Scot 
land  in  April,  1794,  I  was  in  my  twenty-second  year.  The 
amount  of  my  education  was  to  read  the  Bible  and  write  my 
own  name.  Previous  to  this,  I  had  never  been  twenty  miles 
from  the  house  wherein  I  was  born,  and,  with  regard  to  men 
and  their  manners,  I  was  as  ignorant  as  a  babe. 

"  The  first  night  I  slept  on  shore  in  America,  was  on  the 
17th  of  June,  in  an  open  garret,  with  my  head  within  eighteen 
inches  of  the  shingle  roof,  my  ship's  mattress  spread  on  the  floor. 
The  night  was  hot.  A  thunder  storm  arose  at  midnight — the 
rain  descended— the  floods  beat  on  the  frail  roof,  and  great  was 
the  terror  of  my  heart.  The  lightning  flashed,  the  thunder 
rolled  ;  I  had  never  seen  or  heard  the  like  in  Scotland,  and  I 
wished  myself  at  hame  again.  Sleep  fled  from  mine  eyes,  and 
slumber  from  my  eyelids.  I  rose  at  daybreak — head-ache,  heart 
ache — and  my  spirits  sunk  down  to  my  heels.  Being  a  stranger, 
I  was  loth  to  disturb  the  family  by  going  forth  so  early ;  to 
amuse  two  listless  hours,  I  opened  my  case  of  books  to  spread 
them  on  the  floor  ;  as  they  had  been  fourteen  weeks  in  the  hold 
of  the  vessel,  I  feared  they  were  mildewed.  On  the  top,  lay  a 
small  pocket  Bible ;  it  was  placed  there  by  the  hands  of  my 
pious  father.  I  opened  the  book.  "  My  son,"  met  my  eye.  For 


296  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

a  moment,  I  thought  my  father  spoke.  I  read  to  the  end  of 
the  chapter — it  was  the  third  of  Proverbs.  It  is  near  sixty 
years  since  that  morning,  but,  at  every  cross-road,  when  not 
knowing  whither  to  turn,  to  the  right  hand  or  the  left,  on  refer 
ring  to  this  chapter,  I  found  written,  "  This  is  the  way,  walk  ye 
in  it." 


"  Whether  I  shall  see  another  birthday,  or  whether  I  shall 
see  another  Sabbath,  it  matters  not.  I  know  He  will  keep  what 
I  have  committed  to  his  charge." 

It  would  be  well  if  cheering  social  inter 
course  were  more  cultivated  among  those  who 
share  in  the  sympathies  of  many  years.  A  lady 
of  ninety-three,  in  one  of  the  villages  of  Massa 
chusetts,  lately  entertained  at  her  tea-table,  a 
party  of  seven  friends  of  both  sexes,  whose 
ages  ranged  from  seventy  to  eighty-six.  True 
satisfaction  and  a  decorous  hilarity  marked  the 
festival.  Much  had  they  to  say,  for  their  united 
experience  covered  an  area  of  six  hundred  and 
fifty  years.  Rural  employments  had  probably 
contributed  to  preserve  their  health ;  for  all 
were  dwellers  upon  their  own  farms,  within  the 
vicinity  of  a  square  mile,  so  that  neighborly  in 
timacy  gave  a  zest  to  their  intercourse,  and  no 
snows  of  age  had  been  allowed  to  obstruct  the 
avenues  of  friendship. 

It  is  desirable  that  the  lambent  light  of  hap- 


WESTEKING     SUNBEAMS.  297 

piness  should  beam  from  the  countenance  and 
life  of  those  who  have  long  set  a  good  example, 
thus  making  virtue  attractive,  and  dispelling 
the  dread  which,  the  young  feel  of  becoming 
old. 

Is  not  the  parting  sun  beautiful  in  a  wintry 
landscape  ?  The  whitened  hillocks  wear  a  faint 
rose -crown,  and  the  trees  glitter  in  their  frost 
work  drapery,  as  if  for  a  birthnight. 

Does  any  one  ask  how  this  "  house  of  our 
pilgrimage  "  may  be  illumined,  when  shadows 
steal  around,  and  perchance,  those  that  "  look 
out  of  the  windows  are  darkened  ? "  Are  there 
not  some  dwellings  which  are  lighted  from 
above  ?  We  would  fain  have  a  sky-light  that 
shall  not  fail  us ;  one  that  we  can  look  up  to, 
and  be  glad.  We  are  not  satisfied  with  a  cold 
lustre  in  Memory's  halls,  or  with  a  solitary  star- 
beam. 

Can  we  not  have  a  fire  on  the  hearth,  when 
winter  gathers  around  us  ?  Yes,  we  will  keep 
love  in  our  hearts,  while  they  beat,  that  there 
may  be  warmth,  as  well  as  radiance. 

Thus,  may  our  day  of  life  draw  toward  its 
close.  At  "  evening  time  may  it  be  light."  In 
thy  light,  O  Father  of  our  spirits,  may  we  see 
light;  that  walking  in  love  here  below,  we 

13* 


298  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

may  come  at  last,  in  thy  good  time,  to 
that  glorious  world,  where  there  is  no  more 
night,  and  where  the  sunbeam  of  love  is  eter 
nal. 


CHAPTER    XYI. 


Ye  who  hold 

Proud  tenantry  in  earth,  and  call  your  lands 
By  your  own  names,  and  lock  your  coffer'd  gold 
From  him  who  for  a  bleeding  Saviour's  sake 
Doth  ask  a  part, — whose  shall  those  treasures  be, 
When,  like  the  grass-blade  smit  by  autumn-frost, 
Ye  fall  away  ? 

IT  is  a  mournful  thought  that  men  should 
become  more  attached  to  earthly  possessions 
when  about  to  leave  them,  or  grasp  them  with 
so  great  intensity,  that  the  final  separation  must 
be  forcible  and  afflictive. 

But  is  this  statement  true  ?  Do  such  cases 
often  occur  ?  If  so,  are  there  no  remedies  ? 

As  we  are  creatures  of  habit,  adhesiveness 
undoubtedly  gathers  strength  from  time.  Since 
what  we  have  been  habituated  to  do,  or  to  see, 
becomes  unconsciously  interwoven  with  our  ex- 


300  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

istence,  so  what  we  have  been  accustomed  to 
have  and  to  hold,  may  grow  closer  to  our  hearts 
as  life  recedes,  causing  those  who  in  youth  were 
merely  prudent,  to  be  at  last  the  victims  of  av 
arice.  Still,  the  extreme  of  this  passion  is  not 
often  witnessed,  inasmuch  as  a  miser  is  a  mark 
ed  creature,  held  up  for  observation  and  com 
ment,  both  in  passing  life  and  in  history. 

All  the  subtle  talents  of  Mazarin  were  not 
able  to  gild  his  rapacity,  or  hide  it  from  the 
contempt  of  coming  ages.  The  solemn  warning 
of  his  confessor,  that  to  purchase  peace  of  con 
science,  he  must  make  restitution  of  unjust 
gains,  failed  to  overcome  his  insatiable  habit  of 
hoarding.  The  frank  assurance  of  his  physician, 
that,  though  but  just  upon  the  verge  of  sixty, 
the  revolution  of  two  brief  moons  was  the  ut 
most  limit  of  his  days,  embittered  with  terror 
both  his  waking  and  sleeping  moments.  Then, 
his  two  hundred  millions  of  livres  passed  before 
him,  in  review,  each  one  as  dear  as  ever.  To 
enrich  his  relatives,  the  haughty  family  of  Man- 
cini,  was  probably  an  excuse  made  by  the  wily 
cardinal  for  his  unequalled  avarice,  but  the  root 
was  in  the  love  of  it.  Some  rare  gems,  and  pe 
culiarly  precious  treasures,  were  placed  in  bags 
beneath  his  pillow.  After  struggles  of  deadly 


ABOUT     MO  KEY.  301 

anguish,  which  increasing  disease  induced,  he 
stretched  his  weak,  emaciated  hands  to  feel  if 
they  were  still  there.  The  fearful  Spoiler, 
drawing  every  hour  more  near,  he  might  have 
apostrophized  in  the  words  ascribed  to  one  of 
England's  great  and  unhappy  statesmen. 

"  If  thou  be'est  death,  I'll  give  a  nation's  treasure, 
Enough  to  purchase  such  another  island, 
So  thou  wilt  let  me  live  and  feel  no  pain.1' 

Other  extreme  cases  might  be  cited,  but  this 
is  not  our  object.  It  is  rather  to  recommend 
such  antidotes  as  are  the  most  obvious,  if  we 
admit  that  avarice  is  a  disease  indigenous  to  life 
in  its  decline. 

The  first  prescription  would  be,  pay  all 
debts.  There  is  religion  in  it.  If  we  are  using, 
or  have  the  name  of  possessing  anything  for 
which  the  owner  has  not  been  fully  remune 
rated,  let  us  lose  no  time  in  rendering  adequate 
compensation.  It  is  better  always  to  do  with 
out  what  we  cannot  justly  afford  to  purchase, 
than  avail  ourselves  of  what  literally  belongs 
to  another:  and  the  weight  of  undischarged 
obligation  grows  heavier  as  we  draw  nearer 
our  own  final  account.  It  is  at  all  times  a  clog 
to  the  free  spirit,  a  yoke  that  bows  down  inde- 


302  PAST     MEEIDIAN. 

pendence  of  thought  and  purpose.  "  Poverty 
without  debt  is  independence,"  says  an  Arabian 
proverb.  The  blessed  founder  of  our  faith,  to 
his  command  to  "  render  to  all  their  dues," 
added  the  force  of  his  own  example,  in  the  pay 
ment  of  tribute  to  the  Roman  ruler.  An  old 
author  has  quaintly  remarked,  "  Even  when 
Christ  borrowed  Peter's  boat  to  preach  a  ser 
mon  out  of  it,  he  paid  him  for  the  same  with  a 
great  draught  of  fishes."  The  wise  monarch  of 
Israel  attaches  the  epithet  of  wickedness  to  that 
too  common  forgetfulness  of  equity,  "  borrowing 
and  paying  not  again."  The  spirit  of  acquisi 
tiveness  is  a  temptation  to  vice.  It  confuses 
the  simple  principles  of  right  and  wrong.  The 
fearful  frauds  that  mark  modern  days,  and  our 
own  country,  bid  us  to  strengthen  every  foun 
dation  of  equity,  and  beware  of  the  spirit  of 

"  These  feverish  times, 
That  putting  the  how-miLch  before  the  7wwt 
Cry  like  the  daughters  of  the  horse-leech,  give." 

How  forcible  were  the  words  of  the  elo 
quent  Patrick  Henry,  on  his  death-bed,  to  his 
children,  "  If  I  could  will  to  give  you  the  Chris 
tian  religion,  how  gladly  would  I  do  so ;  for 
with  this  and  without  any  earthly  possession, 


ABOUT     MONEY.  303 

you  would  be  infinitely  rich :  without  it, 
thoagh  with  all  else  that  the  heart  can  wish, 
you  would  be  miserably  poor." 

The  apostolic  injunction,  "  Owe  no  man  any 
thing,  except  to  love  one  another,"  gathers 
strength  and  significance  with  every  added 
year.  The  luxury  of  giving  cannot  be  fairly 
enjoyed,  while  debts  remain  unliquidated.  "  Be 
just  before  you  are  generous,"  is  a  precept  as 
admirable  for  its  innate  truth,  as  for  its  garb  of 
simplicity.  Punctual  and  cheerful  payment  of 
wages  to  the  laborer  is  a  form  of  benevolence. 
To  withhold  hard-earned  dues,  or  to  render 
them  churlishly,  is  anti-Christian.  A  philan 
thropist,  who  in  his  business  employed  many 
operatives,  was  in  the  habit  of  paying  them  all 
at  stated  periods,  and  of  adding,  if  possible, 
some  kind  word  of  counsel,  saying  it  was  a 
"  good  time  to  sow  a  good  seed,  when  there 
was  a  sunbeam  to  quicken  it." 

Repress  the  spirit  of  accumulation.  This 
has  been  said  to  increase  with  years.  Yet  the 
faculties  which  it  calls  into  exercise  are  adverse 
to  the  tranquillity  which  is  usually  coveted  in 
life's  decline.  Its  progress  must,  therefore,  be 
traced  to  the  force  of  a  habit,  against  which 
reason  remonstrates. 


304  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

The  fever  of  speculation,  the  eagerness  of 
gain,  the  disappointment  of  loss,  all  the  intense 
gradations  from  exultation  to  despair,  are  inap 
posite  and  hurtful  to  a  being  who  cannot  long 
partake  that  for  which  he  barters  so  much  ; 
and  whose  wisdom  is  rather  to  seek  wealth  in 
the  country  where  he  is  about  to  dwell.  The 
value  of  every  species  of  property  depends 
upon  the  period  in  which  it  may  be  rendered 
available,  or  upon  its  probability  of  continu 
ance.  A  bond  about  to  expire,  a  house  ready 
to  fall,  an  estate  which  the  mortgagee  might  at 
any  moment  claim,  would  not  be  coveted  as  in 
vestments  by  the  prudent.  To  the  aged  all 
earth's  possessions,  being  deficient  in  the  article 
of  time,  which  is  the  breath  of  their  nostrils,  are 
far  less  worthy  of  fervent  search,  than  when,  in 
early  prime,  they  were  encouraged  by  hope  to 
associate  them  with  a  long  term  of  years.  Such 
meditations,  probably,  induced  a  man  of  labo 
rious  and  successful  acquisition  to  say,  "  I  will 
add  no  more  to  my  capital  hereafter ;  and  the 
surplus  of  all  my  income  shall  be  the  Lord's." 

Cultivate  the  habit  of  giving.  This  great 
pleasure  may  have  been  reserved  for  later  years 
as  a  compensation  for  those  enjoyments  which 
time  has  taken  away.  The  aged,  by  their  posi- 


ABOUT      MONEY.  305 

tion,  are  peculiarly  solicited  to  make  trial 
whether  it  is  not  better  to  give  than  to  receive. 
Chrysostom  has  well  said  that  "  a  man  does  not 
become  rich  by  laying  up  abundance,  but  by 
laying  out  abundance : — that  is,  laying  it  out 
for  God." 

There  is  force  in  that  quaint  epitaph, 

"  What  I  saved  I  lost, 
What  I  spent  I  had, 
What  I  gave  I  kept." 

"  I  think  I  am  rich  enough,"  said  Pope,  after 
his  writings  became  productive,  "  to  give  away- 
one  hundred  pounds  a  year.  I  would  not 
crawl  upon  the  earth  without  doing  a  little 
good.  1  will  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  giving  what 
I  have  to  give  by  doing  it  while  I  am  alive,  and 
seeing  others  enjoy  it.  I  should  be  ashamed  to 
leave  enough  for  a  monument  if  there  was  a 
friend  in  want  above  ground." 

Many  examples  might  be  cited,  were  time 
and  space  mine,  where  similar  resolutions  have 
been  adopted  as  the  motto  and  guide  of  life, 
until  the  spirit  blessing  all  whom  it  met,  was 
wafted  by  gratitude  below  to  songs  of  melody 
above.  Such  an  one  has  been  removed  from 
among  us. 


306  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

Anson  Gr.  Phelps,  Esq.,  of  New  York,  who 
by  his  own  unaided  industry,  became  the  pos 
sessor  of  a  large  fortune,  through  untiring  deeds 
of  philanthropy  kept  his  heart  tender  and  open 
to  the  wants  and  woes  of  mankind.  Time, 
money,  and  sympathy  were  with  him  ever 
ready  for  the  claims  of  beneficence,  whether 
large  or  small.  To  the  Being  who  had  pros 
pered  his  labors,  he  thus  considered  himself 
accountable,  and  this  conscientious  discharge  of 
duty  was  blessed  as  one  of  his  highest  joys. 
Until  more  than  threescore  and  ten  years  had 
passed  over  him,  he  attended  with  undimin- 
ished  judgment  to  the  concerns  of  a  great  com 
mercial  establishment,  and  the  interests  of 
many  associated  and  individual  forms  of  benevo 
lence.  Amid  the  sufferings  and  languor  of  de 
cline,  his  mind,  peacefully  resting  upon  that 
God  whom  from  youth  he  had  served,  still 
occupied  itself  in  plans  of  liberality.  Within 
two  or  three  days  of  his  death,  while  arranging 
for  a  donation  of  several  thousand  dollars  to 
some  religious  design,  a  beloved  one  expressed 
fear  that  it  might  too  much  tax  his  feeble 
strength,  and  proposed  that  it  should  be  left  to 
the  care  of  others,  but  he  replied,  "  My  business 
has  long  been  to  save  that  I  might  give,  and  I 


ABOUT      MONEY.  307 

wish  to  continue  it  while  life  lasts."  More 
than  half  a  million  is  dedicated  in  his  will  to 
the  charities  which  he  had  long  patronized,  and 
besides  other  bequests  to  his  twenty-two  grand 
children,  was  the  sum  of  $5,000  for  each,  the 
interest  of  which  was  to  be  annually  devoted 
to  deeds  of  religious  bounty.  Thus  did  he 
seek,  even  when  he  should  be  numbered  with 
the  dead,  to  lead  his  descendants  in  those  paths 
of  Christian  charity  which  he  had  so  loved. 
Among  the  objects  of  philanthropy  in  his  own 
city,  the  asylum  for  the  blind  has  shared  large 
ly  in  his  bounties  and  sympathies.  Its  inmates, 
at  his  frequent  visits,  gathered  around  him  to 
take  his  hand  as  that  of  a  father.  Their  thrill 
ing  and  tuneful  voices  poured  forth  the  tearful 
melody  of  a  hymn  at  his  thronged  funeral  ob 
sequies. 

"  How  those  blind  children  will  miss  him !  " 
said  a  clergyman  in  his  address,  at  the  church 
where  for  many  years  he  had  worshipped. 
"  They  never  saw  his  benignant  face,  but  they 
well  knew  the  kind  voice  of  their  benefactor. 
How  do  all  the  blessed  affections  of  humanity, 
how  do  all  the  sacred  hopes  of  religion,  delight 
to  hover  over  a  good  man's  grave." 

Another  counsel  which  we  venture  to  give, 


308  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

is  to  superintend  personally,  as  far  as  possible, 
such  plans  of  benevolence  as  are  approved  and 
adopted.  This  is  true  economy.  We  best  un 
derstand  our  own  designs.  It  may  not  always 
be  feasible  perfectly  to  incorporate  them  with 
the  mind  of  another.  "  He  who  uses  the  minis 
try  of  many  agents,"  says  a  profound  moralist, 
"  may  be  by  some  of  them  misunderstood  and 
by  others  deceived." 

Why  should  we  not  enjoy  the  pleasure  of 
dispensing  our  own  gifts  \  "  Come,  please  give 
us  something,"  said  a  shrewd  nurse  to  an  inva 
lid  and  rather  parsimonious  old  lady  ;  "  give  us  all 
something  now,  and  see  us  look  pleasant  while 
you  are  alive."  There  was  philosophy  here,  as 
well  as  policy. 

Illustrations  of  this  position  are  so  nume 
rous,  that  it  is  embarrassing  and  almost  invidi 
ous  to  select. 

The  late  Hon.  Samuel  Appleton,  of  Boston, 
who  lived  to  almost  the  verge  of  ninety,  was 
distinguished  by  the  practical  efficiency  of  char 
ity.  The  exercise  of  a  clear  judgment  kept 
pace  with  his  persevering  liberality.  In  carry 
ing  out  such  designs  as  he  decided  to  adopt, 
the  amount  of  his  benevolence  often  exceeded 
$25,000  annually.  So  long  did  he  pursue  this 


ABOUT     MONEY.  309 

blessed  husbandry,  that  lie  was  enabled  to  see 
ripening  fruits  from  the  germs  he  had  planted 
in  the  sterile  soil  of  poverty  and  ignorance. 

It  is  pleasant  to  observe  how  his  discrimina 
ting  and  unimpaired  mind  simply  and  senten- 
tiously  expressed  itself,  in  presenting  a  dona 
tion  of  ten  thousand  dollars  to  a  venerated 
scholastic  institution. 

"  It  affords  me  much  pleasure  to  have  it  in  my  power  to  do 
something  for  the  only  college  in  my  native  State,  which  has 
done  so  much  to  establish  a  sound  literary  character  in  the 
country. 

"  Dartmouth  has  done  her  full  proportion  in  educating  for 
the  pulpit,  the  bar,  the  healing  art,  and  the  senate,  good  and 
great  men,  who  have  done  honor  to  their  names,  to  the  college, 
and  the  country. 

"  May  New  Hampshire  long  continue  to  send  forth  from  her 
literary  emporium,  men  who  will  dispense  among  their  fellows, 
religion,  law,  and  the  other  arts  and  sciences,  in  simplicity, 
purity,  and  truth." 

Though  few  have  the  amount  of  wealth  to 
dispense  which  fell  to  the  lot  of  this  unwearied 
philanthropist,  yet  the  zeal  which  determined 
as  far  as  possible  to  be  its  own  executor,  is 
imitable.  Those  who  trust  to  others,  even  dur 
ing  life,  are  not  sure  of  having  their  plans  exe 
cuted.  Much  less  can  this  be  expected  when 
they  are  dead.  Agents  may  fail  or  betray. 
They  may  be  absorbed  with  their  own  busi- 


310  PAST      MEEIDIAN. 

ness,  and  ours  be  delayed  or  forgotten.  A 
large  portion  of  testamentary  charities  perhaps 
never  reach  the  most  available  points  of  the 
object  which  their  donors  contemplated. 

The  habit  of  promptly  making  their  multi 
form  plans  of  benevolence  available,  was  con 
spicuous  in  the  brothers  Amos  and  Abbot 
Lawrence,  of  Boston,  those  shining  lights  in  the 
galaxy  of  goodness.  One  in  heart,  id  devising 
and  executing  liberal  things,  they  are  doubtless 
reunited  where  "  charity  never  faileth."  We 
borrow  the  expressive  language  of  one  of  the 
biographers  of  the  elder  brother,  whose  boun 
ties  during  the  last  ten  years  of  his  life  were 
supposed  to  have  amounted  to  half  a  million  of 
dollars. 

"  It  is  known,"  says  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hopkins,  "  that  his  habit 
of  giving  liberally  extended  back  to  the  period  of  his  earliest 
prosperity,  and  kept  pace  with  its  growth.  He  had  a  sense  of 
religious  obligation,  as  well  as  a  benevolent  heart,  and  with  the 
same  sagacity  that  governed  his  business  transactions,  perceived 
the  tendency  there  is  in  accumulation  to  increase  the  love  of 
money  and  guarded  against  it. 

"  He  did  not  dispense  his  bounty  at  random,  nor  yet  by  any 
rigid  and  inflexible  system,  that  could  not  be  moulded  and 
shaped  by  the  calls  or  aspects  of  each  passing  day. 

"  He  aided  family  connections  near  and  remote,  and  old 
friends  and  acquaintances.  If  any  of  them  needed  a  few  hun 
dred  dollars  to  help  them  over  a  difficult  position,  it  was  sure 
to  come.  But  his  sympathy  was  not  limited  at  all  to  kindred 


ABOUT      MONEY.  311 

or  acquaintance,  or  in  any  way  narrowed  by  sect  or  party.  He 
was  a  true  man,  in  sympathy  with  suffering  humanity,  and  was 
always  glad,  it  gave  him  real  pleasure,  to  find  a  worthy  object 
of  his  bounty.  He  sought  out  such  objects.  He  learned  his 
tories  of  reverses,  and  of  noble  struggles  with  adversity,  that 
were  stranger  than  fiction.  Those  thus  struggling  he  placed  in 
positions  to  help  themselves,  furnishing  them,  if  necessary, 
with  sums  from  one  hundred  to  a  thousand  dollars,  or  more,  as 
freely  as  he  would  have  given  a  cup  of  cold  water.  He  visited 
almshouses,  and  hospitals,  and  insane  asylums,  and  retreats  for 
the  deaf  and  dumb,  and  the  blind,  and  became  deeply  interest 
ed  in  many  of  their  inmates.  He  was  watchful  of  everything 
needed  there  for  comfort  or  for  instruction,  and  his  presence 
always  carried  sunshine  with  it.  He  distributed  useful  books. 
He  aided  genius,  and  encouraged  promising  talent.  A  true  son 
of  New  England,  he  appreciated  education,  and  gave  his  money 
and  his  influence  to  extend  it,  and  to  elevate  its  standard  in 
every  grade  of  our  institutions,  from  the  primary  school  to  the 
college  and  the  professional  seminary." 

The  forms  of  benevolence  change.  Those 
objects  which  twenty  years  since  were  promi 
nent,  are  now  in  a  measure  obsolete,  or  super 
seded  by  others.  If  we  have  selected  one 
which  seems  fitting  and  feasible,  let  us  see  to  it 
ourselves.  Our  heirs  will  probably  have  con 
cerns  enough  of  their  own,  and  not  care  to  be 
burdened  with  ours  also. 

Methinks  I  hear  a  murmured  rejoinder, 
"  There  are  various  forms  of  charity  I  should 
like  to  patronize,  but  I  must  save  for  my  chil 
dren,  and  I  have  poor  relations.'1 


312  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

These  are  the  keytones  which  covetonsness 
has  struck  for  ages,  and  with  such  force  as  often 
to  bewilder  itself.  There  is  in  them  a  sem 
blance  of  justice  and  of  conscience,  while  the 
root  is  at  best  a  concealed  selfishness.  The 
hoarding  for  descendants,  which  at  first  view 
seems  paternal  and  amiable,  may  be  hurtful  to 
those  whose  benefit  it  contemplates.  The  ex 
pectation  of  wealth  may  paralyze  their  indus 
try.  Its  possession  may  check  their  sympathies, 
perhaps  endanger  their  souls.  If  we  adopt  the 
charity  that  begins  at  home,  let  us  see  that  it 
does  not  become  bedridden  and  die  at  home. 
For  wherever  there  is  one  of  God's  family  who 
is  in  sorrow,  or  ignorance,  or  needs  bread  or  a 
garment,  or  is  sick,  or  in  prison  to  vice  or  de 
spair,  let  the  same  be  to  us  as  our  u  brother  and 
sister  and  mother." 

The  possession  of  property  involves  an  obli 
gation  of  stewardship,  both  to  the  Giver  and  to 
our  fellow-creatures ;  an  obligation  w^hich  reced 
ing  life  renders  more  imperative  and  sacred. 
We  would  not  stand  before  our  Judge  with 
rust  upon  our  souls,  derived  from  the  gold  that 
perishes.  Of  its  unrighteous  gathering,  its  un 
just  detention,  or  unkind  denial  to  any  in  the 
hour  of  need,  we  would  be  guiltless  in  the 
dread  day  of  account. 


"  .  r    . 
ABOUT      MONEY.  313 


I  have  somewhere  seen  four  homely  rules 
which  comprise  true  wisdom,  and  whose  observ 
ance  would  prevent  much  remorse  : 
"  1.  Do  all  the  good  you  can  ; 

2.  In  all  the  ways  you  can ; 

3.  To  all  the  people  you  can  ; 

4.  Just  as  long  as  you  can." 

There  are  some  who  in  their  desires  to  do 
good  are  discouraged  if  they  must  operate  on  a 
small  scale,  or  be  bounded  by  a  narrow  circle. 
They  erroneously  associate  large  benefactions, 
with  the  pure  element  of  benevolence.  Such  per 
sons  may  be  consoled  by  Mahomet's  explanation 
of  good  deeds  to  our  race.  His  definition  em 
braced  the  wide  circle  of  all  possible  kindness. 
"  Every  good  act,"  he  would  say,  "  is  charity. 
Your  smiling  in  your  brother's  face  is  charity ; 
an  exhortation  of  your  fellow-man  to  virtuous 
deeds  is  equal  to  alms-giving ;  your  putting  a 
wanderer  in  the  right  road  is  charity ;  your  as 
sisting  the  blind  is  charity ;  your  removing 
stones,  and  thorns,  and  other  obstructions  from 
the  road,  is  charity ;  your  giving  water  to  the 
thirsty  is  charity.  A  man's  true  wealth  hereaf 
ter  is  the  good  he  does  in  this  world  to  his 
fellow-man.  When  he  dies,  people  will  say, 
1  What  property  has  he  left  behind  him  ? ' 
14 


314  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

But  the  angels  will  ask,  '  What  good  deeds  has 
he  sent  before  him  ? ' 

And  now,  if  any  of  us  who  have  together 
mused  on  this  subject,  realize  that  the  time  is 
short,  let  us  the  more  strenuously  fulfil  deferred 
resolutions  and  undischarged  duties.  Let  us 
pay  what  we  owe,  and  break  the  slavery  of 
money  getting,  and  study  the  science  of  charity 
in  the  love  of  it,  and  learn  the  joy  of  being  our 
own  almoners.  For  to  all,  whether  young  or 
old,  who  are  still  seeking  the  good  things  of 
this  transitory  state  the  warning  of  an  ancient 
writer  is  appropriate : 

"  Build  your  nest  upon  no  tree  here,  for 
God  hath  sold  the  whole  forest  unto  Death ; 
and  every  tree  whereupon  we  would  rest  is 
ready  to  be  cut  down.  Therefore,  let  us  flee, 
and  mount  up,  and  make  our  abode  among  the 
cliffs,  and  dwell  in  the  sides  of  the  Great  Ever 
lasting  Kock." 


CHAPTEE    XYII. 


Cjj*  ^nullities. 


"  He  prayeth  best,  who  lovetli  best." 

COLERIDGE. 


IT  is  sometimes  the  case,  that  good  and 
kind-hearted  people  imbibe  on  certain  points  a 
rigidity  of  opinion,  or  an  undue  expectation  of 
conformity,  which  is  both  disagreeable  and  in 
expedient.  It  is  a  kind  of  despotism,  against 
which  enlightened  intellect  revolts.  I  am  not 
ignorant  that  it  has  been  numbered  among  the 
tendencies  of  age,  though  I  have  never  observed 
it  to  be  exclusively  confined  to  that  period.  On 
the  contrary,  I  have  seen  and  admired  in  many 
old  persons,  an  increase  of  candor,  a  reluctance 
to  condemn,  and  a  mitigation  of  all  austerity, 
like  the  mellowing  of  rich  fruit,  ripe  for  the 
harvest.  Those  amiable  friends  seemed  to  have 
taken  the  advice  of  the  clear-minded  and  benev- 


316  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

olent  Franklin,  not  to  tarry  in  the  basement 
rooms  of  the  Christian  edifice,  but  to  make 
haste  and  get  into  the  upper  chamber,  which  is 
warm  with  the  sunlight  of  charity. 

Still,  it  must  be  admitted  that  some  ancient 
people  indulge  in  the  dialect  of  complaint.  To 
them,  the  world  and  its  inhabitants  seem  in  a 
state  of  deterioration.  Nothing  is  as  good,  or 
as  pleasant,  or  as  praiseworthy,  as  when  they 
were  young.  So,  onward  they  hie,  with  a  frown 
of  the  spirit,  which  is  worse  than  the  wrinkles 
on  the  face. 

There  is  no  respect  for  age,  say  they,  no 
family-government.  To  command  respect,  cer 
tain  forms  of  example,  or  modes  of  conduct 
and  manners,  are  deemed  essential.  It  is  possi 
ble  that  in  some  of  these  they  may  themselves 
be  deficient.  That  changes  the  ground  of  the 
question. 

With  regard  to  the  pusillanimous  adminis 
tration  in  households,  to  which  they  so  mourn 
fully  advert,  a  forcible  writer  has  recently  said : 


"  There  is  complainirg  of  the  want  of  family  government. 
There  is  just  as  much  family  government  now,  as  there  ever 
was.  The  only  difference  is,  that  formerly  it  was  in  the  hands 
of  parents, — now  it  is  in  the  hands  of  children.  Formerly  it 
might  have  been  stern,— now  it  is  tyrannical." 


THE      AMENITIES.  317 

And  now,  my  dear  and  venerable  coevals, 
though  some  changes,  which  are  unavoidable, 
may  not  be  in  conformity  to  our  taste,  yet 
those  who  tarry  long  at  a  feast  should  not  be 
surprised  if  the  last  courses  differ  from  the  first. 
Would  it  not  be  a  reflection  on  the  judgment 
of  the  host  if  it  did  not  ?  We  admit  that  the 
Master  and  Giver  of  this  life-feast  understands 
His  own  plan.  Would  not  a  hopeful  pa 
tience,  and  a  heartfelt  praise,  be  profitable  com 
panions  ? 

Querulous  and  imperative  modes  of  expres 
sion,  should  be  strenuously  avoided.  While  we 
concede  liberty  of  judgment  to  others,  we 
should  use  courtesy  in  the  expression  of  our 
own.  it  is  both  fitting  and  wise  that  dissent 
ing  opinion  should  be  wrapped  in  gentle  speech. 
Were  this  always  kept  in  view,  much  of  the 
bitterness  of  strife  would  evaporate,  and  contro 
versies  lulled  into  harmony,  make  only  a  strong 
er  music  to  the  ear  of  humanity. 

If  dogmatism  has  been  considered  a  concom 
itant  of  age,  in  former  times,  it  would  surely  be 
well  to  dismiss  it  in  our  own.  The  world  it 
self  has  so  changed  its  aspects,  capacities,  and 
modes  of  action,  during  the  last  half  century, 
that  many  of  the  conclusions  which  then  seemed 


318  PAST     MEEIDIAK. 

rational  and  well-established,  must  now  be 
either  reconsidered,  or  counted  obsolete.  Then, 
she  was  in  a  manner  home-bred,  and  when  she 
went  abroad,  it  was  comparatively  with  the 
pace  of  a  tortoise.  She  sate  in  the  evening,  by 
the  light  of  a  tallow  candle,  and  read  standard 
old  books,  and  remembered  what  was  in  them, 
and  who  wrote  them. 

Now,  she  is  in  haste,  and  can  admit  but  few 
lasting  impressions.  She  rides  on  the  steam, 
and  talks  by  lightning.  She  reveals  new  agen 
cies  that  bewilder  her  children,  and  astonish 
herself.  Like  the  mystic  form  of  the  Apoca 
lypse,  she  "  is  clothed  with  the  sun,  and  hath 
the  moon  under  her  feet."  Her  "  stones  are  the 
place  of  sapphires,  and  she  hath  dust  of  gold." 

So  many  new  elements,  or  unknown  combi 
nations,  have  been,  or  are  being  discovered,  in 
this  our  planet,  that  a  common,  old-fashioned 
person  could  scarcely  be  more  at  a  loss,  on  the 
ring  of  Saturn,  or  among  the  belts  of  Jupiter. 
It  is  no  wonder  that  those  who  founded  conclu 
sions  on  ancient  premises  should  be  at  fault, 
where  there  is  no  precedent.  The  great  prin 
ciples  of  right  and  wrong  must,  indeed,  ever 
remain  the  same ;  but  the  rapid  movement,  and 


THE      AMENITIES.  319 

transmutation  of  passing  objects,  confuse  the 
old  modes  of  reasoning. 

We,  therefore,  of  the  ancient  regime,  should 
forbear  strongly  to  press  preconceived  opinions, 
and  should  form  new  ones  with  peculiar  modes 
ty.  For  we  are  not  certain  of  what  we  once 
supposed  was  well  understood,  and  must  con 
sole  ourselves  with  the  assertion  of  Bacon,  that 
"  he  is  the  wisest  man,  who  is  the  most  suscep 
tible  of  alteration."  Still,  we  will  not  embark 
on  a  sea  of  doubt,  but  regard  with  leniency  our 
fellow-voyagers,  as  they  steer  their  various 
courses,  over  time's  troubled  billows, — as  we 
hope,  toward  the  same  great  haven  of  rest. 

Such  amenities  mingling  with  our  religious 
belief  would  repel  bigotry.  That  we^ should  be 
attached  to  the  form  of  faith  that  has  long  sus 
tained  and  solaced  us,  is  natural  and  commend 
able.  But  if  there  has  been  ever  a  period  in 
which  we  were  inclined  to  think  that  "  we  alone 
were  the  people,  and  wisdom  must  die  with  us," 
it  is  time  to  dismiss  the  assumption.  For  among 
the  many  good  lessons  that  age  has  taught  us, 
should  be  toleration  and  humility.  Through 
much  discipline  and  many  sorrows,  it  instructs 
us  that  "  true  religion  is  not  a  wall  to  shut  out 
our  fellow  beings,  nor  a  balance  in  which  to 


320  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

weigh  grains  of  doctrine,  nor  a  rack  on  which 
to  stretch  varying  opinions,  nor  a  javelin  to 
launch  at  different  complexions  of  faith,  but 
i  peace,  and  love,  and  good-will  to  men.' "  It 
should  have  enabled  us  to  make  progress  in  the 
last  and  highest  grace,  benignant  and  saintly 
charity. 

Faith  has  been  our  teacher,  ever  since  we 
first  lisped,  with  childish  utterance,  u  in  the 
beginning  was  the  Word,  and  the  Word  was 
with  God,  and  the  Word  was  God."  Hope,  as 
far  as  she  draws  nutriment  from  earth,  can 
have  little  more  for  the  aged,  either  in  vision  or 
fruition.  But  Charity,  our  last,  most  patient 
teacher,  will  ever  find  some  beautiful  precept, 
some  holy  exercise,  till  "  this  mortal  shall  put 
on  immortality." 

Yet  though  age  should  soften  all  hostilities 
of  opinion,  as  the  setting  sun  softens  the  land 
scape,  there  are  occasionally  some  minds  of  an 
tagonistic  character,  whose  controversial  tastes 
gather  strength.  With  them,  the  beatitude 
which  the  gospel  promises  to  peace-makers,  is 
overshadowed  by  the  ambition  of  controlling 
the  opinions  of  others.  Such  ideas  harmonize 
rather  with  the  policy  of  an  Israelitish  usurper, 
than  of  the  meek  and  lowly  Redeemer.  "  Is  it 


THE     AMENITIES.  321 

peace,  Jehu?  What  hast  them  to  do  with 
peace  ?  Turn  tliee  behind  me? 

But  how  often  is  the  disposition  and  power 
of  guiding  others  associated  with  the  most 
eminent  liberality  and  love.  Hear  the  noble 
suffrage  of  John  Wesley,  when  advanced  years 
had  fully  matured  his  piety. 

"  My  soul  loathes  the  frothy  food  of  con 
tending  opinions.  Give  me  solid,  substantial 
religion.  Give  me  a  humble  lover  of  God, 
and  of  man,  full  of  mercy  and  good  fruits, 
laying  himself  out  in  works  of  faith,  in  the  pa 
tience  of  hope,  and  the  labor  of  love.  My  soul 
shall  be  with  such  Christians,  wheresoever  they 
are,  and  whatsoever  doctrines  they  may  hold." 

Bishop  Stillingfleet  asks :  "  Cannot  good 
men  differ  about  some  things,  and  yet  be  good 
still  ?  Yes.  Cannot  such  love  one  another  not 
withstanding  such  difference  ?  No  doubt  they 
ought.  Whence  comes  it,  then,  that  a  small 
difference  in  opinion  is  so  apt  to  make  a  breach 
in  affection  ?  In  plain  truth  it  is — every  one 
would-  be  thought  to  be  infallible  ;  and  they  have 
so  good  an  opinion  of  themselves  as  to  make 
their  notions  and  practices  a  rule  for  the  world. 
Hence  arise  disputes  and  ill-language  not  be 
coming  men  or  Christians.  And  if  others  have 
H* 


32*2  PAST      MERIDIAN 

the  same  opinion  of  themselves,  there  must  be 
everlasting  clashings,  and  thence  falling  into 
parties  and  factions ;  which  cannot  be  prevent 
ed  till  they  come  to  more  reasonable  opinions 
of  themselves,  and  more  charitable  and  kind 
feelings  towards  others." 

Sir  George  Mackenzie  says,  "  Bigotry  is  a 
laying  of  too  much  stress  upon  a  circumstantial 
point  of  religion,  and  making  other  essential 
duty  subordinate  thereto.  It  obtrudes  upon  us 
things  of  no  moment,  as  matters  of  the  greatest 
importance.  As  it  would  be  a  great  defect  in  a 
man's  sense  to  take  a  star  for  the  sun,  so  it  is  a 
much  greater  error  in  a  Christian  to  prefer,  or 
even  to  equal,  a  mere  circumstance  to  the  vital 
points  of  religion." 

" Men  who  think,  will  differ™  writes  the 
learned  Dr.  Priestly ;  "  but  true  Christians  will 
ever  be  candid." 

"  I  do  not  wish,"  said  Rowland  Hill,  with 
his  characteristic  pleasantry,  "  the  walls  of 
separation  between  different  orders  of  Chris 
tians  destroyed,  but  only  a  little  lowered,  that 
we  may  shake  hands  over  them." 

"The  nearer  we  approximate  to  universal 
love,"  said  the  large-minded,  large-hearted  Rob 
ert  Hall,  "  the  higher  we  ascend  in  the  scale  of 
Christian  excellence." 


THE      AMENITIES.  323 

The  venerable  President  Nott  thus  counsels 
a  class  of  his  students  about  to  enter  the  minis- 
ryv  "Let  religious  controversy  alone.  Let 
heresy  alone.  Preach  the  pure  Gospel.  That 
will  be  your  best  defence  against  all  error." 

We  blame  the  folly  of  the  Egyptian  queen, 
yet  overlook  their  greater  madness,  who  dis 
solve  in  the  sharp  acid  of  contention  the  price 
less  pearl  of  charity,  the  soul's  chief  wealth,  and 
casting  away  the  substance  for  the  symbol,  ven 
ture  to  stand  in  their  reckless  poverty  before  a 
Judge  who  requireth  love,  and  the  deeds  of 
love,  as  a  test  of  loyalty,  and  a  shield  from 
wrath.  In  His  dread  presence,  we  must  all  ap 
pear,  and  appeal  only  as  sinners,  having  "  left 
undone  the  things  that  we  ought  to  have  done, 
and  done  the  things  that  we  ought  not  to  have 
done."  From  this  parity  of  condition  should 
spring  brotherhood  of  feeling.  Hand  in  hand 
let  us  kneel  before  the  throne  of  the  Par 
doner. 

A  simple,  significant  incident  was  once  re 
lated  in  the  discourse  of  a  Scottish  divine. 

Two  cottagers,  dwelling  under  the  same  roof, 
became  alienated.  It  so  happened  that  both 
were  employed  at  the  same  time  in  thatching 
their  tenement.  Each  heard  the  sound  of  the 


324  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

other's  hammer,  and  saw  the  progress  of  his 
work,  yet  took  no  friendly  notice. 

But  at  length,  as  they  approached  nearer, 
they  looked  in  each  other's  face  and  chanced  to 
smile.  That  smile  was  a  messenger  from  heav 
en.  With  it,  came  the  thought  of  how  much 
better  it  would  be  for  those  who  dwell  under 
one  roof,  to  be  at  peace  in  their  hearts. 

Then  they  shook  hands.  They  said,  "  Let 
us  be  friends"  and  a  new,  great  happiness  be 
came  theirs. 

Are  we  not,  all  of  us,  dwellers  under  God's 
roof,  and  as  Christians  engaged  in  the  same 
work  ?  Is  not  the  silent  lapse  of  years  bring 
ing  us  nearer  and  nearer  toward  each  other  ? 
Let  us  then  press  on  in  love,  until  by  His  grace, 
our  thatching  well  done,  we  meet  on  the  top  at 
last,  and  learn  the  joy  of  angels. 


JDXfi. 
Cl  h: 


CHAPTEE   XYIII. 


C|f*  fleasttws  of  jfittinttr. 

"  And  when  the  tinting  of  the  Autumn  leaves 
Had  faded  from  its  glory,  we  have  sat 
By  the  good  fires  of  winter,  and  rejoiced 
Over  the  fulness  of  the  gathered  sheaf." 

WILLIS. 

WHAT  a  singular  subject !  The  pleasures 
of  winter.  And  what  may  they  be  ?  Some, 
with  whom  the  imagery  of  frost  and  snow 
predominates,  will  be  ready  to  say  that  it 
has  non-8. 

Surely  it  has  been  the  most  ill-treated 
season,  decried  by  almost  every  one  that 
could  wield  a  pen  or  weave  a  couplet.  The 
poets  have  been  in  league  against  it  from 
time  immemorial.  Still  it  has  some  very 
respectable,  shall  I  say  desirable  characteris 
tics?  It  has  not  the  fickleness  of  spring, 
whose  blossoms  so  soon  fall,  nor  the  enervating 


326  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

influence  of  summer,  when  the  strong  men 
bow  themselves,  nor  the  imperious  exactions  of 
autumn,  when  the  ingathering  is  a  weariness, 
and  may  be  a  disappointment. 

Do  not  speak  with  too  much  scora  of  a 
wintry  landscape.  The  wreaths  of  smoke 
rising  high  into  the  clear  blue  skies,  the  pure, 
white  covering  under  which  nature  reposes,  the 
sparkling  of  the  sinuous  streams,  where  the 
graceful  skaters  glide,  the  groups  of  children, 
gathering  rosier  cheeks  and  merrier  spirits 
from  the  heightened  oxygen  of  the  atmos 
phere,  give  to  a  winter  morning  in  our  sunny 
latitude,  cheering  excitement. 

Did  you  ever  chance  to  look  upon  the 
glorious  Niagara  in  the  garniture  of  winter  ? 
And  did  not  its  solemn,  solitary  majesty 
impress  you  more  deeply  than  when  the 
green,  waving  woods,  and  the  busy,  gazing 
throngs,  divided  the  absorbing  sentiment  ? 

Is  not  the  wintry  eve  sweet,  with  its  warm 
fires  and  bright  lights,  w^hen  families  gather 
in  a  closer  circle,  and  better  love  each  other  ? 
Heart  springs  to  heart,  with  fewer  obstacles 
than  in  the  more  discursive  seasons,  when 
the  foot  is  tempted  to  roam  and  the  eye  to 
wander.  The  baby  crows  louder  after  its 


THE      PLEASURES      OF      WINTER.        327 

father,  because  it  can  sit  longer  on  his  knee. 
The  youth  has  a  lengthened  tale  for  his  lady 
love,  and  the  storm  passes  by  unheard. 
Pleasant  talk,  and  sweet  song,  and  loud 
reading,  vary  the  scene  of  household  delights. 
Added  cheerfulness  and  love  are  among  the 
treasures  of  the  wintry  evening. 

Shall  we  not  avail  ourselves  of  these  hints, 
when  the  winter  of  life  comes  ?  Shall  we  not 
light  up  the  cheerful  lamp,  and  put  more  fuel 
on  the  flame  in  our  cold  hearts  ?  They  need 
not  go  out,  though  some  are  gone  who  were 
wont  to  feed  them  with  fresh  oil.  We  will 
keep  love  to  our  race  alive  till  the  last. 
Let  its  embers  throw  their  warmth  even 
into  the  dark  valley.  Yes,  we  will  carry 
those  embers  with  us,  and  relight  them  where 
they  can  never  wane  or  expire. 

The-  young  are  said  to  love  winter.  Let 
us  strive  to  make  them  love  us,  when  we 
become  the  personification  of  winter.  We 
will  redouble  our  offices  of  kindness,  and 
our  powers  of  entertainment,  and  see  if 
we  cannot  melt  the  ice  that  has  collected 
between  us. 

"  Young  men,"  says  Lord  Bacon,  "  are  to 
be  happy  by  hope,  and  the  old  by  memory." 


328  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

Yes,  with  us  are  the  pictures  of  the  past,  the 
winter  gallery,  whose  landscapes  fade  not  and 
whose  fountains  still  freshly  murmur.  Mem 
ory  !  she  who  hath  sifted  and  winnowed  the 
harvest  of  life,  that  she  may  know  the  true 
wheat.  Memory,  who  hath  stood  by  us 
when  Hope  and  Love  have  so  often  rung 
the  death-knell,  and  forsaken  us, — may  we 
be  happy  through  her?  The  Lord  be 
thanked  if  it  is  so.  If,  in  looking  back  on 
all  the  way  wherein  He  hath  led  us,  she 
presents  a  predominance  of  correct  motive, 
of  earnest  obedience,  of  forgiven  sin,  let  us 
strike  that  keytone  of  praise  which  shall 
reecho  through  eternity.  Many  treasured 
things  have  indeed  eluded  our  grasp,  and 
faded  from  our  sight.  Yet  countless  blessings 
remain.  "  Was  Job  miserable,"  says  Chry- 
sostom,  "  when  he  had  lost  all  that  God  had 
given  him  ?  No,  for  had  he  not  still  that  God, 
who  gave  him  all  ? " 

Among  the  prominent  joys  of  life's  winter 
are  those  of  faith ;  a  nearness,  and  shadowing 
forth  of  things  unseen.  It  was  at  a  festal 
gathering  of  the  old  and  young,  that  the 
question  was  once  proposed, — which  season 
of  human  life  was  the  happiest.  It  was 


THE      PLEASURES      OF      WINTER.       329 

freely  discussed,  with,  varying  opinions.  Then 
the  guests  decided  that  their  host,  a  man  of 
fourscore,  should  be  the  umpire.  Pointing 
to  a  neighboring  gro.ve,  he  replied,  "  When 
vernal  airs  call  forth  the  first  buds,  and  yonder 
trees  are  covered  with  blossoms,  I  think  how 
beautiful  is  spring.  When  summer  clothes 
them  with  rich  foliage,  and  birds  sing  among 
the  branches,  I  say  how  beautiful  is  summer. 
When  they  are  loaded  with  fruit,  or  bright 
with  the  hues  of  early  frost,  I  feel  how 
beautiful  is  autumn.  But  in  the  sere  winter, 
when  there  are  neither  verdure  nor  fruit,  I  look 
through  the  leafless  boughs  as  I  could  never 
do  before,  and  see  the  stars  shine? 

Stars  of  our  God  !  beam  more  brightly  into 
our  souls,  through  this  wintry  atmosphere. 
For  our  home  is  near.  And  notwithstanding 
the  Great  Philosopher  hath  said  that  the  old 
can  be  happy  only  through  memory,  we  will 
be  happy  through  hope  also ;  yea,  through 
that  hope  which  hath  no  mixture  of  earth, 
the  "  hope  that  maketh  not  ashamed,  and  which 
is  an  anchor  to  the  soul." 


CHAPTEK    XIX. 


"  Oh  soldier  of  the  Cross,  away  with  dreams  ! 
Bright  on  thy  brow  eternal  glory  streams, 
In  faith,  in  love,  in  wisdom's  steadfast  mind, 
Arise  and  leave  this  moonlight  camp  behind." 

BISHOP  BURGESS. 

IF  it  is  wrong  to  disparage  the  season  of 
age,  which  so  few  reach,  over  the  hidden  pit 
falls  of  time,  it  is  unwise  to  regard  only  with 
reluctance  and  terror  the  transition  to  another 
life.  To  depart  from  this  world,  is  as  neces 
sary  to  the  completion  of  our  pilgrimage  as 
to  have  entered  it ;  a  point  of  existence  not 
to  be  evaded,  a  consummation  of  what  was 
here  began. 

Do  we  not  bear  within  ourselves  the 
essential  argument  and  , proof  of  future  exis 
tence  ?  Even  a  heathen  shall  beautifully 
answer  this  question,  the  clear-minded  Xeno- 


A      NEW      EXISTENCE.  331 

phon.  "  When  I  consider  the  boundless 
activity  of  our  minds,  the  remembrance  we 
have  of  things  past,  our  foresight  of  what  is 
to  come,  when  I  reflect  on  the  noble  dis 
coveries  and  improvements  that  those  minds 
have  achieved,  I  am  persuaded,  and  out  of 
all  doubt,  that  a  nature  which  hath  in  it 
self  such  excellent  things  cannot  possibly  be 
mortal." 

Is  not  this  brief  life  so  fitted  and  adjusted 
to  another,  as  to  form  but  one  existence  ? 
Like  apartments  in  a  well-arranged  mansion, 
they  harmonize  and  are  in  symmetry.  May 
we  not  pass  from  one  to  the  other,  with 
confidence  in  the  Builder  and  Master  of  the 
Mansion  ?  If  the  passage  is  dark,  is  there 
not  a  lamp  at  each  extremity  placed  there 
by  His  hand  who  "  hath  conquered  Death, 
and  brought  life  and  immortality  to  light 
through  the  Gospel  ? " 

A  pious  man  drawing  near  his  last  hour, 
said  to  me,  "  That  other  world  is  as  clear, 
and  as  near,  as  the  entrance  into  the  next 
room."  Raising  his  emaciated  hand,  with  a 
great  brightness  in  his  eye,  he  added,  "  I  had 
rather  enter  that  next  room  than  to  remain 
longer  here,  for  in  that  pleasant  room  are  more 
of  my  friends  than  in  this." 


332  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

"  Why  are  we  spared  so  Icmg  ? "  is  some 
times  the  half-murmuring  question  of  the 
aged,  for  whom  the  novelties  of  life  are 
extinguished; 

The  remark  is  an  implication  of  unerring 
wisdom.  As  long  as  breath  is  lent,  there 
will  be  some  duty  to  perform,  some  enjoy 
ment  to  partake,  some  right  word  to  be 
spoken,  some  prayer  to  be  sent  upward,  some 
point  of  Christian  example  to  be  made  com 
plete.  It  would  be  well  to  bear  in  our  hearts 
the  motto  of  a  poet, 

"  How  well  is  ours  : — how  long,  permit  to  Heaven." 

Were  our  fears  and  anxieties  less  devoted 
to  the  circumstance  of  leaving  this  life,  than  to 
the  danger  of  failing  in  those  duties  on  which 
the  welfare  of  a  future  one  depends,  it  were 
better  for  us  now  and  ever  after. 

The  messenger  who  is  appointed  to  sum 
mon  us  to  a  new  existence,  is  often  arrayed 
writh  imaginary  terrors,  and  represented  as 
the  foe  of  our  race.  A  quaint  writer  has 
recommended  that  we  should  "  keep  on  good 
terms  with  Death."  It  would  be  indeed  wise 
to  make  him  our  friend,  to  speak  no  ill  of 
him,  to  be  ready  for  him,  and  to  meet  him 
without  fear. 


A     NEW      EXISTENCE.  333 

"  I  am  dying,"  said  Washington,  when  a 
sharp  sickness  of  twenty-four  hours  cut  off 
his  span  of  sixty-seven  years,  "  but  I  am  not 
afraid  to  die."  Sometimes  a  new  and  strange 
courage  comes  to  the  Christian  with  death, 
though  he  might  "  all  his  lifetime  have  been 
subject  to  bondage."  The  diffident,  who 
shrank  ever  from  his  fellow-man,  has  been 
heard  to  open  his  mouth  boldly,  and  speak 
beautiful  things  of  the  world  to  come.  To 
the  weak-spirited  and  oppressed,  he  appears 
as  a  deliverer.  Tyranny  hath  power  no  more. 
The  fears  and  hopes  that  were  born  in  dust,  and 
dwelt  there,  fade  away.  The  eye  that  grows 
dim  to  these  lower  skies,  kindles  with  the 
"  glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of  God.'' 
As  the  last  breath  ebbed  away,  a  saintly 
womtm  whispered,  with  a  smile  never  to  be 
forgotten.  "  Gotfs  happiness  ! — God's  happi 
ness  !  " 

Friends  !    brethren  and  sisters,  already  far 
advanced  on  the  journey  to  another  life,  who 

"  Nightly  pitch  the  moving  tent 
A  day's  march  nearer  home," 

are  we  afraid  ?     Why  should  we  be  ?     Who 
provided  for  us,  before  we  entered  this  state 


334  PAST     MERIDIAN. 

of  probation  ?  Whose  eye  "  saw  our  sub 
stance  yet  being  imperfect  ? "  Who  took 
care  of  us  when  we  knew  Him  not  ? 
Will  He  forget  us  now  that  we  are  His 
servants  ? 

Sometimes  the  faith  of  the  unlearned  and 
simple  reproves  those  whom  the  world  ac- 
counteth  wise.  A  poor  Indian  woman  of 
great  age  dwelt  on  the  far  banks  of  the  Mis 
sissippi.  Her  people,  who  always  reverence 
the  hoary  head,  spoke  of  her  as  an  oracle, 
and  a  traveller  from  one  of  our  Eastern  States 
was  thus  led  by  curiosity  to  pay  her  a  visit. 
The  way  was  lonely,  and  the  noon-day  sun 
sultry,  ere  he  reached  the  spot  which  had 
been  indicated  as  her  dwelling.  Seated  alone 
on  a  fallen  tree,  in  the  shade  of  her  wigwam, 
with  arms  folded,  and  head  dropping  upon 
her  bosom,  he  found  the  object  of  his  search. 
Withered  were  her  features,  as  the  dead  trunk 
upon  which  she  rested,  and  with  the  taci 
turnity  of  her  race,  she  returned  his  greeting, 
and  replied  to  his  questions  only  in  mono 
syllables.  At  length  he  repeated  the  in 
terrogatory  of  Egypt's  monarch  to  the  pa 
triarch — 

"  How  old  art  thou  ? " 


A     NEW      EXISTENCE.  335 

"  I  don't  know.  Some  of  my  people  say,  one  hundred  and 
twenty  years.  Everybody  that  I  knew  when  I  was  young  have 
been  long  dead." 

"  Are  you  afraid  to  die  ? " 

This  seemed  a  talismanic  question.  Her 
indifference  of  manner  fled.  Light  came  to 
her  dim  eye.  Raising  its  downcast  glance, 
she  uttered  with  an  animation  that  changed 
her  whole  aspect,  the  simplicity  and  clearness 
of  her  faith. 

Afraid  to  die  ?  No  !  Why  should  I  be  afraid  ?  The  Great 
Spirit  has  been  good  to  me.  He  has  taken  care  of  me  all  my 
life.  He  has  kept  me  from  harm  through  many  dangers  and 
troubles.  He  opens  the  hearts  of  the  people  to  be  good  to  me, 
so  that  though  I  am  too  old  and  feeble  to  make  provision  for 
myself,  they  let  me  want  for  nothing.  I  know  not  when  He 
will  take  me,  but  wherever  it  may  be,  I  am  willing  to  go,  when 
he  calls." 

The  brightness  faded  from  her  eye  as  she 
ceased  to  speak,  and  relapsing  into  her  habit 
ual  calmness,  the  aged  woman  seemed  as  im 
movable  as  the  trees  that  surrounded  her. 
But  as  the  traveller  wended  his  way  back 
through  the  pathless  forest,  her  words  follow 
ed  him  as  a  strong,  strange  melody.  "  Afraid 
to  die  ?  No  !  Wherever  it  may  be,  I  am 
willing  to  go,  when  he  calls." 

To  loosen  the  bonds  of  affection,  and  depart 


336  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

from  those  who  are  roost  dear,  needs  the 
exercise  of  an  implicit  trust.  If  there  are 
any  in  that  circle  whose  helplessness  or 
absorbing  love  renders  them  apparently  de 
pendent  on  us  for  protection  or  happiness, 
let  us  endeavor  serenely  to  leave  them  on 
the  Everlasting  Arm. 

A  statesman,  during  a  disastrous  period 
in  the  civil  wars  of  England,  being  appointed 
to  a  foreign  embassy,  was  listening  to  the  vio 
lent  tumult  of  a  stormy  sea,  the  night  before 
his  embarkation,  and  reflecting  on  the  perilous 
condition  of  his  native  land,  until  his  troubled 
mind  forbade  sleep.  A  confidential  servant 
who  accompanied  him,  perceiving  his  distress, 
said, 

"  Sir,  do  you  not  think  that  God  governed 
the  world  well,  before  you  came  into  it  ? " 

«  Undoubtedly." 

"  Sir,  do  you  not  think  He  will  govern  it  as 
well,  when  you  are  gone  out  of  it  ? " 

"  Certainly." 

"  Sir,  pray  excuse  me,  do  you  not  think 
that  you  may  trust  Him  to  govern  it  quite  as 
well,  while  you  live  ?  " 

The  reproof  overcame  his  perturbation, 
who  was  about  to  undertake  a  tempestuous 


A     NEW     EXISTENCE.  33? 

voyage,  burdened  with  heavy  cares.  Its  spirit 
might  instruct  us.  For  those  whom  we  con 
template  leaving  with  such  anxiety,  we  might 
be  powerless  to  protect  if  we  remained  behind. 
The  calamities  of  life  would  overtake  them. 
Sickness  would  smite  them,  and  sorrow  find  a 
passage  into  their  hearts,  and  we  could  not 
shield  them.  We  could  not  "  deliver  our 
darling  from  the  lion."  We  would,  therefore, 
confidently  trust  them  and  ourselves  to  an 
Almighty  Hand,  and,  filled  with  holy  faith, 
respond  to  the  words  of  a  powerful  writer, 
"  We  have  nothing  to  do  with  death  but  to 
defy  it,  to  lift  up  our  heads  and  look  above 
it.  He  is  but  the  mere  loosener  of  the  cords 
that  moor  us  to  the  shores  of  time,  the  dis- 
solver  of  the  cement  that  attaches  to  the 
things  that  perish  in  the  using.  What  we 
have  to  do  with  it,  is  to  despise  it ;  not  to 
prepare  to  meet  it,  but  to  prepare  to  meet 
our  God." 

Nature  might  herself  instruct  us,  by  tho 
calm  aspect  with  which  she  meets  her  own 
changes. 

"  How  quiet  shows  the  woodland  scene  I 
Each  flower  and  tree,  its  duty  done, 
Reposing  in  decay  serene, 

Like  holy  men  when  age  is  won, 
15 


338  PAST      MERIDIAN. 

Such  calm  old  age,  as  conscience  pure 
And  self-commanding  hearts  ensure, 
Waiting  the  summons  of  the  sky, 
Content  to  live  and  not  afraid  to  die." 

Content,  and  not  afraid.  That  is  a  blessed 
Christian  motto.  Yet  we  would  add  still 
more.  Should  we  not  be  Iwppy  to  pass  into 
whatever  state  of  existence  God  shall  desig 
nate  ?  Look  at  the  bird.  It  hath  gathered 
neither  into  storehouse  or  barn.  Its  food 
hath  been  from  the  garner  of  the  broad, 
green  earth,  and  its  life  a  music-strain.  The 
blasts  of  autumn  come.  Its  empty  nest 
trembles  amid  the  _  leafless  boughs.  It  must 
speed  its  way  to  another  clime. 

Does  it  linger  ?  Does  it  doubt  ?  Nay,  it 
spreads  an  unreluctant  wing  into  the  track 
less  ether. 

So  go  thou  forth,  O  Soul!  It  is  God's 
universe.  Thou  canst  not  pass  beyond 
His  jurisdiction.  His  grace  is  sufficient 
for  thee. 

Living,  or  dying,  we  would  obey  the  elo 
quent  injunction  of  the  prophet,  to  "  seek  Him 
who  maketh  the  seven  stars  and  Orion,  and 
turneth  the  shadow  of  death  into  the  morning." 
Let  us  bring  our  will  into  conformity  with  His 


A     NEW     EXISTENCE.  339 

will,  and  catch  the  spirit  of  the  last  prayer 
of  Bishop  Jewel : 

"  Lord,  now  let  thy  servant  depart  in  peace. 
Lord,  suffer  thy  servant  to  come  unto  Thee. 
Lord,  receive  my  spirit. 

"  I  have  not  so  lived,  as  to  be  ashamed  of 
having  lived ;  neither  do  I  fear  death,  for  God 
is  merciful.  Father,  Thy  will  be  done.  Thy 
will,  I  say,  and  not  mine. 

"  Lo,  this  is  my  day.  To-day  shall  I  quick 
ly  come  unto  Thee.  This  day  shall  I  see  my 
Lord  Jesus — Thou,  O  Lord,  who  hast  .been  my 
only  hope." 

But  in  what  attitude  shall  we  stand,  and 
how  shall  we  occupy  ourselves,  when  the  time 
and  strength  for  active  service  have  past  away  ? 
The  answer  is,  Wait. 

The  waiting  graces  are  beautiful.  They 
imply  readiness.  We  can  not  quietly  await 
any  great  event  for  which  we  are  unprepared. 
Let  us  have  oil  in  our  lamps,  and  cherish  every 
gentle  and  holy  affection. 

Wait !  It  is  an  honorable  service.  An 
ancient  warrior  put  on  his  armor  and  braced 
himself  upright  when  the  footstep  of  death 
stole  upon  him.  "  I  have  never  turned  ray 
back  on  any  foe,  while  I  lived,"  said  he.  "  and 
I  will  look  the  last  one  in  the  face." 


340  P  A  8  T      MERIDIAN. 

Wait  bravely,  therefore,  in  Christian  armor, 
the  opening  of  that  gate  which  leads  to  a 
higher  existence.  Wait,  with  a  smile,  the 
ministry  of  the  last  messenger.  Ask  not 
when  he  cometh,  or  where,  or  in  what  man 
ner.  Stipulate  nothing.  Poor  pensioner  on 
God's  free  mercy,  question  not,  distrust  not. 
His  time  is  the  best  time. 

When  it  shall  come  may  we  have  grace  to 
let  the  frail  tent  of  this  body  calmly  fall,  and 
putting  our  hand  into  the  pierced  hand  of  a 
Redeemer,  with  a  song  of  praise  go  forth  to 
"  the  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the 
heavens." 


THE      END. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THE  PRESS. 

"PAST  MERIDIAN." 


" North  American  Review,  Boston" 

"  Past  Meridian,"  indeed,  by  the  clock,  but  not  by  the  still  culminat 
ing  sun.  Mrs.  Sigourney  has  never  before  written  so  wisely,  so  usefully, 
so  beautifully,  as  in  this  volume.  In  saying  so,  we  yield  to  none  in  our 
high  appreciation  of  her  previous  literary  merit ;  but  unless  we  greatly 
mistake,  this  is  one  of  the  comparatively  few  books  of  our  day  which 
will  be  read  with  glistening  eyes  and  glowing  heart  when  all  who  now 
read  it  will  have  gone  to  their  graves.  It  is  written  by  her  in  the  char 
acter  of  one  who  has  passed  the  meridian  of  life,  and  addresses  itself  to 
sensations  and  experiences  which  all  whose  faces  are  turned  westward 
can  understand  and  feel  with  her.  It  is  much  more  than  the  "  De 
Senectute"  Christianized.  It  is  devotion,  philosophy,  and  poetry  so 
intertwined  that  each  is  enriched  and  adorned  by  the  association.  It 
describes,  indeed,  the  straitnesses  and  sadnesses  of  growing  years;  but 
sets  off  against  them  the  more  than  preponderant  immunities  and  felici 
ties.  It  treats  of  the  duties  of  the  aged,  and  of  their  rights  and  dues  at 
the  hands  of  the  younger.  It  gives  biographical  sketches  and  anecdotes 
of  good  and  happy  old  men  and  women.  And,  above  all,  it  blends  with 
the  serene  sunset  of  a  well-spent  life  the  young  morning  beams  of  the 
never-setting  day.  It  will  carry  solace  to  many  a  fireside,  and  will 
rekindle  hope  and  gladness  in  many  a  soul  that  hardly  dares  to  look 
into  its  earthly  future. 

Mrs.  Sigourney  furnishes  a  striking  refutation  of  the  not  unusual 
idea  that  a  poet's  prose  is  none  the  better  for  the  habit  of  metrical 
composition.  Hers  is  not  poetry  dismembered,  but  chaste  and  modest 
prose,  free  from  the  intrusive  licenses  of  verse,  yet  thoroughly  interpene 
trated  with  the  poetic  imagination  which  gives  grace  and  glow  alike  to 
all  forms  of  literature. 


SELECTIONS  FEOM  THE  PRESS. 

"  Hartford  CouranC"1 

This  is  the  latest,  though  we  hope  not  the  last  publication  of  the 
excellent  authoress ;  and  we  much  mistake  if  it  be  not  regarded  as  one 
of  the  best  and  most  useful  of  the  many  volumes  she  has  given  to  the 
public.  It  relates  to  a  subject  not  often  treated,  but  which  has  a  most 
intimate  connection  with  the  duty  and  happiness  of  a  full  half  of  the 
race.  It  is  warm  and  genial  in  its  spirit,  fresh  and  youthful  in  its  style, 
and  the  reader  cannot  dwell  en  its  pages  long,  without  having  his  pulse 
quickened,  a  kindlier  glow  kindled  in  his  bosom,  and  a  smile  of  satisfac 
tion  spread  over  his  countenance.  Its  sentiments  are  admirably  suited 
to  interest  and  profit  the  class  of  persons  for  whom  it  was  particularly 
intended;  and  such  cannot  read  and  "  inwardly  digest "  the  lessons  it 
inculcates,  without  being  made  both  wiser  and  happier  as  they  descend 
into  the  vale  of  age. 

Mrs.  S.  intimates  in  the  preface,  that  any  who  may  be  found  reading 
the  book  may  be  suspected  of  being  on  the  wrong  side  of  fifty.  We 
sincerely  hope  that  none  of  those  to  whom  she  gives  this  hint,  will  be 
deterred  by  it  from  giving  the  volume  a  careful  perusal ;  for  we  can 
fissure  them  that  if  they  live  long  enough,  they  will  be  among  the  past 
meridians — some  of  them,  too,  sooner  than  they  might  be  willing  to 
confess — and  familiarity  with  the  thoughts  here  set  forth  in  a  very 
attractive  manner,  will  fit  them  to  pass  that  dreaded  line  with  a  better 
grace,  and  tend  to  make  them  "  behave  better  "  when  they  find  their 
faces  well  turned  toward  the  setting  sun.  Peace  to  the  author  of  this 
good  book,  and  a  blessing  on  all  who  read  it. 

''''Norwich  Courier.'1'1 

"  Looking  out  on  her  times/'  Mrs.  Sigourney  has  not  failed  to 
descry  the  indecorous  haste  in  thrusting  aside  persons  hardly  past  their 
prime,  which  marks  the  present  aspect  of  society — and  sets  herself  to 
recall,  if  possible,  those  attributes  of  worth  and  true  dignity,  which,  in 
times  past,  compelled  reverence  and  commanded  influence  for  life  in  its 
decline.  Taking  her  stand  in  the  ranks,  as  one  past  mid-age — there  is 
pathos  and  beauty  in  the  counsels  and  encouragements  she  ministers  to 
her  compeers,  enforced  as  they  are  by  the  whole  tenor  of  her  life. 

The  intellect  and  the  heart  which  indited  this  well-timed  volume 
are  yet  far  from  Past  Meridian. 


SELECTIONS     FROM     THE     PRESS. 


"  New  York  Ledger.'1'1 

Our  gifted  American  poetess,  whose  name  has  so  long  been  a  house 
hold  word  at  the  firesides  of  the  country,  has  favored  the  public  with  a 
volume  of  prose  sketches,  under  the  modest  title  of  "Past  Meridian" — 
by  which  it  is  delicately  hinted  that  the  book  is  more  especially  intended 
for  those  who  have  passed  the  noon  of  existence,  by  one  who  is  herself 
traversing  the  descending  slope  of  the  hill  of  life,  and  whose  shadow, 
with  theirs,  is  lengthening  in  the  setting  sun.  But  notwithstanding  the 
graceful  frankness  with  which  the  authoress  assumes  a  station  among 
those  who  are  upast  meridian,"  the  work  exhibits  none  of  the  character 
istics  of  age,  except  a  statelier  dignity,  a  riper  experience,  and  a  more 
composed  strength,  while  it  gives  unmistakable  evidence  of  containing 
the  maturest  flowerings  and  the  mellowest  fruitage  of  a  mind  which 
seems  exhaustless  in  its  richness  and  beauty.  We  imagine,  therefore, 
that  "  Past  Meridian  "  will  not  be  limited  in  its  circulation  to  the  class 
to  whom  it  is  particularly  addressed,  but  that  its  lessons  of  gentle  wis 
dom,  its  sweet  pathos,  its  chaste  style,  and  its  eloquent  diction,  will  win 
their  way  to  all  hearts,  irrespective  of  age,  and  position  in  life. 


" Philadelphia  Episcopal  Recorder" 

Mrs.  Sigourney  is  above  the  need  of  praise  from  the  press,  and  can 
have  no  fear  of  its  censure.  Her  name  has  a  prestige,  which  will  give 
currency  to  her  writings,  so  far  as  she  is  known.  Whatever  she  is 
pleased  to  write,  booksellers  will  bo  happy  to  publish,  and  the  public 
will  desire  to  read,  without  knowing  more  of  the  book  than  its  author 
ship.  The  power  and  fascination  of  her  pen  were  never  more  apparent 
than  in  this  last  production,  as  is  demonstrated  to  every  reader  before 
he  gets  beyond  the  title  and  preface.  It  is  incredible  that  any  com 
monplace  mind  should  have  conceived  the  one,  or  composed  the  other. 
We  have  never  seen  anything  of  the  kind  that  pleased  us  more. 

The  cast  of  the  book  is  eminently  evangelical,  and  is  replete  with 
counsels  and  encouragements,  by  which  the  reader  can  hardly  fail  to  be 
made  both  happier  and  better.  We  should  be  greatly  embarrassed  in 
attempting  to  select  from  a  work  of  such  continuous  beauty,  a  portion 
which  would  give  the  reader  an  adequate  idea  of  the  whole. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THE  PRESS. 

"  Washington  National  Intelligencer? 

"  Past  Meridian,"  by  Mrs.  L.  H.  Sigourney.  Appropriate  title  of  a 
most  charming  book.  Bryant  sings  of  Nature's  autumn,  "  Now  come  the 
melancholy  days,  the  saddest  of  the  year ;  "  but  not  in  such  colors  does 
our  gifted  authoress  paint  the  scenes  from  the  human  seasons  in  their 
procession  to  hale  and  hearty  winter.  No  gloomy  thoughts,  no  sad  foot 
prints  does  she  leave,  but  loving  pictures  of  the  still  active  happiness, 
the  serene  hopes  which  gild  the  path  of  those  whose  sun  of  life  is  "  past 
meridian."  There  is  in  these  sketches  a  joyous  appreciation  of  the  ful 
filled  stages  of  experience,  a  freshness  which  belongs  rather  to  the  Old 
World,  where  people  never  grow  old,  than  to  this  busy,  worn-out,  yet 
infant  country  of  ours,  where  "  Young  America"  seems  to  think  white 
hairs  an  impertinence,  and  grand-parents  a  useless  institution.  Beautiful 
and  touching  are  Mrs.  Sigourney's  descriptions  of  the  domestic  anniver 
saries  of  Germany,  of  the  silver  and  golden  weddings  celebrated  by  those 
couples  who  for  half  a  century  have  enjoyed  together  the  brightness  of 
youthful  love,  have  lightened  by  tender  mutual  sympathy  the  cares  of 
maturer  age,  and  who  now,  with  hearts  still  warm  with  the  best  affec 
tions,  and  surrounded  by  new  generations  glad  to  show  them  loving 
reverence,  are  hallowed  with  an  almost  sacred  ligkt  in  their  glorious 
"  past  meridian." 

There  is  iu  these  genial  pages  much  encouragement  for  those  who 
have  not  yet  entered  their  "fifties,"  and  our  authoress  imparts  to  them 
the  difficult  art,  unknown  to  all  save  French  women— that  of  growing 
old  gracefully ;  and  we  thank  Mrs.  Sigourney  for  the  noble  example  she 
has  selected  of  the  great  and  good  of  "aged  divines,"  and  "remarkable 
women,"  the  evening  of  whose  pilgrimage  has  been  made  lovely  and 
serene  by  the  reflected  light  of  well-spent  days. 

Indeed,  we  busy  editors  can  scarce  find  time  or  words  with  which  to 
thank  our  authoress  for  this  her  last  "  envoie"  to  her  admiring  country 
men.  There  is  a  tempered  humor  and  touching  pathos  pervading  it, 
unsurpassed,  we  think,  by  any  other  of  her  gifts  to  us,  prose  or  poetical. 
Would  that  all  in  this  our  "  fast"  age  and  country  could  muse  for  an 
hour  over  the  serious  yet  unspeakably  cheerful  thoughts  which  these 
pages  suggest !  She  speaks  to  the  young,  the  A.  M.'s  of  life's  morning 
with  a  sweet  brightness  suited  to  their  eager  spirit,  while  to  those  who 
sit  in  the  evening  shadows  of  P.  M.  she  points  to  the  coming  dawn 
welcome  herald  of  that  eternal  day  which  knows  no  "  past  meridian." 


THIS   BOOK   IS   DUE   ON   THE   LAST  DATE 
STAMPED   BELOW 

RENEWED  BOOKS  ARE  SUBJECT  TO  IMMEDIATE 
RECALL 


LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  DAVIS 

Book  Slip-35?n-7,'62(D296s4)458 


263598 


Sigourney,   L.H.H 
Past  meridian. 


Call  Number: 

PS2832 

P2 

186U 


263598 


'H 
US 


